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the QUEENS 

of ENGLAND 



FROM THE NORMAN CONQUEST TO THE REIGN OF 

VICTORIA. 



By MARY HOW1TT, 

REVISED BY GENEVA ARMSTRONG. 



Illustrated— 28 Full-Page Portraits. 




Chicago : 

B. S. WASSON ■& CO., Publishers, 

1901. 

u - 



{Library of Congress 

Two Copies Received 
FEB 15 1901 

Copyright entry 

He.CC.JA.7-S..... 
SECOND COPY 



Entered According to Act of Congress, 

in the Year 1900, 

By B. S. WASSON*& CO., 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, 



CONTENTS. 



BORN. DIED. PAGE. 

Matilda of Flanders — Wife of William the Conqueror. . 1031 1084 1 

Matilda of Scotland — Queen of Henry 1 1077 11 18 10 

Adelais of Lauraine — Second wife of Henry 1 11 13 1151 24 

Matilda the "Empress" — First Queen Regnant 1102 1167 29 

Matilda of Boulogne — Wife of Stephen * 1151 40 

Eleanor of Aquitaine — Wife of Henry II 1 123 1204 45 

Berengaria of Navarre- — Wife of Richard I * * 65 

Isabella of Angouleme — Queen of John 1 185 1246 73 

Eleanor of Provence— Queen of Henry III * 1291 80 

Eleanor of Castile— Queen of Edward 1 1244 1290 100 

Marguerite of France — Second wife of Edward 1 1281 1317 113 

Isabella of France — Queen of Edward II 1295 1358 1 18 

Philippa of Hainault — Queen of Edward III 1310 1369 130 

Anne of Bohemia — Queen of Richard II 1367 1394 140 

Isabella of Valois — Second wife of Richard II 1387 1410 150 

Joanna of Navarre — Wife of Henry IV 1370 1437 159 

Katherine of Valois — Wife of Henry V 1401 1437 173 

Margaret of Anjou — Queen of Henry VI 1428 1482 187 

Elizabeth Woodville — Wife of Edward IV 1431 1492 209 

Anne of Warwick — Wife of Richard III 1454 1485 221 

Elizabeth of York- j Queen of Henry VIJ^ | 66 

( Second Queen Regnant. J ^ ° •* J 

Katherine of Arragon — First Queen of Henry VIII.... 1485 1536 249 

Anne Boleyn — Second Queen of Henry VIII. 1501 1536 280 

Jane Seymour — Third Queen of Henry VIII * 1537 309 

*Date of birth not known. 

V 



CONTENTS. 

BORN. DIED. PAGE. 

Anne of Cleves — Fourth wife of Henry VIII 1517 1557 3 I 5 

Katherine Howard — Fifth wife of Henry VIII 15221541-2 321 

Katherine Parr — Sixth wife of Henry VIII 1513 1548 327 

Lady Jane Grey 1537 1554 344 

Mary the First — Third Queen Regnant 1516 1550 360 

Elizabeth — Fourth Queen Regnant 1533 1603 402 

Anne of Denmark — Queen of James 1 1575 1617 421 

Henrietta Maria of France — Queen of Charles 1 1609 1669 450 

Catherine of Braganza — Queen of Charles II 1638 1705 470 

Mary Beatrice of Modena — Queen of James II 1658 1718 483 

i\/r 4.1. c a S Queen of William III ) ^ ,,- , q 

Mary the Second- | ^ Queen Regnant J 1662 1695 488 

Anne — Sixth Queen Regnant 1665 1714 496 

Caroline of Auspach — Queen of George II 1683 l 737 504 

Sophia Charlotte — Queen of George III 1744 1818 510 

Caroline of Brunswick — Queen of George IV -1768 1821 514 

Adelaide of Minimgen — Queen of William IV 1791 1849 527 

Victoria — Seventh Queen Regnant 1819 1901 532 

♦Date of birth not known. 



vi 




K» 



- 



THE 

QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 



MATILDA OF FLANDERS, 

WIFE OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 

Matilda of Flanders, wife of the Norman Conqueror, 
was one of those royal consorts who have exercised great 
influence, not only over the minds of their husbands, but of 
the nation at large. She was descended from the ancient 
Kings of France. Her mother was Adelais, daughter of Rob- 
ert, King of France, and by her father, Baldwin the Fifth, 
Earl of Flanders, she was directly descended "from the noblest 
and wisest of the Saxon kings, Alfred the Great, through the 
marriage of his daughter, Elstrith, with Baldwin the Second 
of Flanders. 

Of the more immediate ancestors of Queen Matilda, it 
may be said that Baldwin the Fourth, her grandfather, was 
a warlike prince. His son and heir, Baldwin the Fifth, her 
father, obtained the surname of "the Gentle," on account of 
his goodness and piety. Henry the First, King of France, 
not only intrusted to him the education of his, two sons, but 
appointed him regent of the kingdom, during .the minority 
of the eldest, so highly did he esteem his prudence and good 
qualities. 

Matilda was born in the year 103 1. She was remarkable for 
her beauty, and her natural endowments, and being carefully 
educated, became one of the most learned and accomplished 
princesses of her time. Her skill in needlework and embroidery 
was very extraordinary, as is proved by her great work, the 
Bayeux tapestry, which is still in existence. This remarkable 
performance, which, as a national chronicle, possesses great 
value, belongs, however, to a later period of Matilda's life. 



2 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

At present we see her only as the young Princess of Flanders, 
the fame of whose beauty and accomplishments brought many 
suitors to the court of her father. 

Among Matilda's numerous lovers came her cousin, Prince 
William of Normandy, son of the benevolent Duke Robert, no 
less esteemed by the Norman people for his important services, 
than were his great ancestors, Rollo and Richard "the Good." 

This prince seemed destined for greatness. He was young, 
handsome, and of a warlike character. His commanding figure 
and fine talents, which had been cultivated at the court of 
France, entitled him to hope for success with the fair object 
of his choice, of whom he appears to have been sincerely 
enamored. But unfortunately, his near consanguinity, and 
his illegitimate birth, presented objections on the part of her 
parents ; while Matilda herself, entirely engrossed by her attach- 
ment to Brihtric, a young Saxon nobleman, who had been 
sent as ambassador to the court of her father by Edward the 
Confessor, gave him a decided refusal. The difficulties, how- 
ever, which might have daunted a character of less determina- 
tion than that of William, seemed by no means to check his 
ardor. For seven years he steadfastly persevered in his suit, 
stimulated, not only by his passion for his fair cousin, but by 
the political advantages which would accrue to him from her 
alliance. 

Fortunately for William, Matilda, who had inspired him 
with so ardent and so faithful a love, met with no return 
of affection from the young Saxon, to whom she had given 
her heart ; therefore, after seven long years of tedious wait- 
ing, he determined at once to make an end of the courtship, 
and that by a means which, in an ordinary case, would have 
promised anything but success. He waylaid Matilda one 
day in the streets of Bruges, when she was returning from 
church, and seizing her, rolled her in the mud, spoiled all 
her gay attire, and then, after striking her several times, rode 
off at full speed. This conduct, and from a lover especially, 
appears most extraordinary ; but it was according to the fashion 
of the rude Norse wooing, which was familiar enough to 
William from the ballads and traditions of his Scandinavian 
ancestry, and the result in his case was the same as is chroni- 
cled of all such stout old heroes. The lady, convinced at once 
of the force of her lover's passion by the strength of his arm, 
and fearing, perhaps, further corporeal punishment, submitted, 



MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 3 

as the wisest course. Flis love was accepted — perhaps returned, 
and the marriage day was fixed. 

The nuptials were celebrated at the duke's castle of Ange, 
in Normandy, in the year 1052, whither Matilda had been 
conducted by her parents with great pomp, the Earl of Flan- 
ders making many rich presents in addition to the dowry of 
his daughter. The garments of the bride were of the most 
costly materials and workmanship, and her mantle, adorned 
with jewels, together with that of her husband, were long 
preserved in the Cathedral of Bayeux. 

The nuptial festivities over, William conducted his bride 
through his dominions, and received the homage of his vas- 
sals, after which he established his court at Rouen. Never, 
perhaps, was happiness more complete than that of William 
and his accomplished consort, who, we are assured, what- 
ever was the previous state of her affections, became devotedly 
attached to her husband. From this period she also interested 
herself in many noble and intellectual pursuits, by which she 
acquired universal respect. The title also of William to the 
ducal crown, which, on account of his illegitimate birth, had 
been questioned, was now fully established, while his union 
with Matilda, herself a legitimate descendant of the royal 
line, gave stability to his power ; added to which the death of 
the King of France at this time freed him from apprehension 
of disturbance in that quarter. From this auspicious period 
William and Matilda passed many years in great conjugal 
felicity, which was augmented by the birth of several children. 

Their happiness, however, was not without alloy. William's 
uncle, the haughty Mauger, Archbishop of Rouen, who had 
received many favors from him, took offense at his marriage, 
and even went so far as to excommunicate the newly married 
cousins, on the plea of consanguinity, declaring that nothing 
could, expiate their offense but instant separation. William 
sought, at first, by liberal contributions to the Church, to allay 
the wrath of this prelate, but in vain ; he then appealed to the 
Pope, the powerful and far-famed Gregory the Seventh. The 
afterwards celebrated Lanfranc, at that time a man of but 
little note, was employed on this mission ; and so effective 
were his zeal and eloquence that Pope Gregory, unwilling to 
proceed to extremities with so potent a prince, and one who 
had paid such deference to him, granted a full dispensation ; 
making, however, an especial proviso that William and Matilda 



4 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

should atone for their offense by founding each an abbey 
for the religious of their own sex. In obedience to which 
William erected, in 1064, the great Benedictine Abbey of 
St. Stephen, in Caen, and Matilda the Church of the Holy 
Trinity, in the same city. They were called the "Abbaye 
aux Hommes" and the "Abbaye aux Dames," and were situ- 
ated about a mile from each other. A stately palace was 
also erected by William within the orecincts of St. Stephen's, 
for a royal residence. 

Fourteen years after his marriage, William undertook his 
great expedition against England. He had at first much diffi- 
culty in prevailing upon his nobles to embark with him in so 
perilous an enterprise ; but having overcome their opposition, 
he sailed in September, 1066, in a beautiful vessel called the 
"Mora," which had been presented to him for this purpose 
by his wife. It was adorned in a style of royal magnificence, 
and on the prow was placed the effigy of their youngest child, 
in gold, as some writers have said, holding a trumpet to his 
lips with his left hand, and with his right pointing with a 
bow and arrow toward England. This device was intended 
by Matilda to inspire her husband with confidence in the suc- 
cess of his undertaking, and scarcely was this appropriate gift 
presented, than, as if the very elements aided in concert, a 
favorable breeze sprang up, "and a joyful clamor," says the old 
chronicler, "then arising summoned every one to the ships." 

The result of this invasion is well known. It gained for 
William the appellation of "the Conqueror," and for Matilda, 
the title of Queen ; a title which until then was unknown in 
England. 

The news of Duke William's victory at Hastings, and of 
his complete success, was soon conveyed to his wife, who, 
during his absence, had been left regent in Normandy, an 
office which she filled greatly to the satisfaction of the people. 
She was engaged at her devotions in the church of the Bene- 
dictines at Notre Dame du Pre, near St. Sevre, a church which 
she herself had founded in 1060, when the news of her hus- 
band's good fortune reached her. In commemoration of this 
circumstance, she ordered that this church should henceforth 
be called the "Priory of Our Lady of Good Tidings," which 
name it bears to the present day. But Matilda left to posterity 
a still more permanent and valuable memorial of her conjugal 
affection and taste, as well as an astonishing proof of the 



MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 5 

skill of her times, in that elaborate piece of workmanship 
called the Bayeux Tapestry, of which we have before spoken. 
This important work of art, the earliest notice of which is 
found in an inventory of the effects of the Abbey of Bayeux, 
in 1476, where it is called, "A very long piece of cloth, embroi- 
dered with figures and writing, representing the conquest of 
England," is in fact an historical chronicle, presenting in 
needlework a picture of events, commencing with the visit of 
Harold to the Norman court, and ' ending with his death 
on the fatal field of Hastings — a pictorial history important 
not only as a narrative of great events, but as a faithful 
memorial of the costume and manners of the age. That this 
epic in embroidery, which celebrates the warlike achievements 
of William, was the work of love on the part of his wife, may 
be easily believed ; and in this point of view it also acquires 
a deep additional interest. 

After the battle of Hastings, and the subjugation of the 
English, the Conqueror caused his own coronation to take 
place, and received the homage and submission of the chief 
nobility. Matilda, though not yet crowned, had assumed the 
title of Queen, probably on the occasion of William's return 
to Normandy, six months after the conquest of England. This 
return to Normandy created universal joy. Matilda and her 
children received him on shore a little below the Abbey of 
Fescamp, while all classes of his subjects vied with each other 
in doing him honor. Several months were spent in triumphal 
progresses through the towns and cities of Normandy, when 
a spirit of discontent and rebellion arising in his newly acquired 
territories, William again, in the stormy month of December, 
embarked for England, having left Matilda and their son 
Robert regents in Normandy during his absence. 

Tranquillity being once more restored, William sent over 
for Matilda. Accordingly, the following Easter, she and her 
children arrived in England, being joyfully met by William 
at Winchester, where preparations were immediately made for 
their coronation. Matilda's new subjects, who now for the 
first time beheld her, seem to have been greatly pleased by 
her manners and appearance. The coronation took place on 
Whitsunday at Winchester. The day was auspicious, and 
the weather fine ; the company numerous and noble, and as 
an important feature of the occasion, it is recorded that Wil- 
liam was in so remarkably gracious a mood as to grant favors 



6 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

to all who asked him. Before the ceremony of coronation, 
Matilda was served by her Norman nobility ; bnt afterwards 
by her new English subjects, who, as has been said, were won 
by her prepossessing exterior. Nevertheless, the title of Queen, 
which she had assumed and which conveyed to their minds 
only an idea of sovereignty, was displeasing to the English, 
the wives of whose kings had hitherto been styled merely 
lady; and Matilda was spoken of as "the strange woman," 
who had assumed a title of authority to which she had no right. 
Yet, although the office of champion was instituted on the 
occasion of this coronation, and the champion challenged three 
times to single combat any one who should deny that William 
and Matilda were King and Queen of England, yet no one 
did it, and Matilda maintained by their consent, as it might 
appear, the title of Queen. Toward the end of the same year 
she gave birth to her fourth son, Henry, at Selby, in York- 
shire. 

We are now, however, constrained to notice a dark shade 
on the hitherto fair character of Matilda. It will be remem- 
bered that one of the impediments to the smooth course of 
William's wooing was the love which Matilda bore to Brihtric, 
a young Saxon nobleman, who, singularly enough, treated her 
preference with disdain. This slighted love must have rankled 
deeply in the soul of Matilda, and perhaps even William owed 
him a grudge for the tedious courtship which he had caused 
him. Be that as it might, twenty years afterward, and after 
fourteen years of singularly happy married life, when, on the 
conquest of England, William rewarded his Norman lords 
and followers with the lands of the Saxon nobles, he bestowed 
the possessions of Brihtric, which lay in Gloucestershire, on 
his queen by her own desire. Nor did this satisfy her passion 
for vengeance ; she punished the town of Gloucester by the 
forfeiture of its charter and civic liberties, because it had 
belonged to the unfortunate Saxon lord, while she had him 
conveyed to the city of Winchester, where he died in prison 
and was privately buried. Another story is related of Matilda's 
vengeance, which is in no way incredible, either as regards the 
character of the woman, or of the age. It appears that the 
news reached her in Normandy of certain attentions which 
her husband was paying in his new kingdom to the beautiful 
daughter of one of the canons of Canterbury ; she therefore 
caused the young lady to be put to death in a most cruel 



MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 7 

manner. If this be characteristic of a jealous wife of those 
days, no less characteristic of an incensed husband, the descend- 
ant of the stout Vikings in the eleventh century, was the 
punishment which William inflicted on his wife on his return 
to Normandy — "He beat her," relates an old chronicler, "with 
his bridle so severely that she died soon after." The dying- 
soon after was a mistake, but the beating is not so improbable ; 
and as in the case of the wooing, so no doubt in this matri- 
monial quarrel, the dissension was of short duration ; for all 
historians agree that this period of their lives was one of great 
harmony. 

During the invasion of the Danes in England, and the 
troubles with which King William had to contend, his queen 
resided in Normandy, where, in her administration as regent, 
she exhibited great talents, and in positions of difficulty, great 
prudence and address. Robert, eldest son of the Conqueror, 
was, at the age of fourteen, associated with his mother in the 
regency of Normandy. He had received a promise from his 
father, when he undertook his expedition against England, that, 
should he be successful, and obtain the crown of that country, 
he would bestow on him the Dukedom of Normandy; but 
When Robert claimed from him the fulfillment of this engage- 
ment, the king plainly told him that he must not expect it 
during his lifetime. 

The respect which Robert entertained for his father might 
have withheld him from rebellion ; but the machinations of 
the king's enemies incited him to take up arms and to enforce 
his claim at once. In this revolt Robert was supported by 
the forces of the French, and by the people of Maine, who 
were strongly attached to him, and whom, in right of the 
little Countess of Maine, now dead, to whom Robert had been 
espoused while yet a child, they regarded as their rightful 
lord. He also received secret supplies from his mother, who 
by her sympathy and affection very naturally sought to com- 
pensate for the rigor of his father, and she accordingly fur- 
nished him both with money and soldiers. But the Conqueror 
quickly suppressed this rebellion ; and it is remarkable that the 
hero who had triumphed in England with an army of Normans 
and foreigners, brought on this occasion English forces to 
recover his dukedom. The meeting of William with his queen 
under these circumstances has a tragic grandeur in it. He 
reproached her with sorrowing severity, observing that his 



8 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

great affection had led him to repose unbounded confidence in 
her, but that she had abused both the one and the other in 
lavishing his money on his enemies. In defense, Matilda 
urged the strong affection of a mother for her first-born 
child, and added, "If Robert were in his grave, and could be 
recovered by my blood, I would pour it out to restore him. 
How can I enjoy my prosperity, and suffer my son to be 
pining in want? Far from my heart be such cruelty, nor 
should your power exact it." The king was touched by this 
effusion of maternal tenderness, and contented himself with 
punishing those who had had the hardihood to be the bearers 
of his wife's presents to his son. One of these he ordered to 
be treated with great rigor, and to have his eyes put out ; but, 
fortunately for the culprit, he eluded the sentence by flight. 

William's affection for his wife suffered no diminution ; and 
even Robert — who, in this unnatural combat, found himself 
on one occasion personally opposed to his father, whom, not 
recognizing at the time, he unhorsed, and even pierced with 
a lance — obtained his forgiveness on the expression of sincere 
contrition. Spite of his contrition, however, his father had not 
sufficient confidence in him to leave him in Normandy ; there- 
fore, not only to prevent the recurrence of further rebellion, 
but to remove him from the influence of his mother, he took 
him with himself into England, on pretense of employing him 
against the King of Scotland. 

While William regarded his son with a jealous eye, Robert 
complained that his services were not repaid by affection ; 
and at length, wounded by his father's coldness and suspicions, 
and envious of the estimation in which his younger brother 
was held, Robert fled from England, and, after traveling 
throughout Europe, fixed his residence at the French court. 
The tidings of these new dissensions between her beloved hus- 
band and favorite son caused the most poignant grief to the 
queen, whose heart was just then wrung by the death of her 
daughter Constance, Duchess of Bretagne, to whom she was 
tenderly attached. Again she endeavored to obtain a recon- 
ciliation, but this time without effect. Her distress of mind 
was also greatly increased by the answer which she received 
from a German hermit and soothsayer, to whom she had 
applied on the painful disunion of her husband and son. The 
answer, which was but a prediction of increasing sorrow and 



MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 9 

misery, so affected the queen, that she sank into a lingering 
illness, which ended in her death. 

On the first tidings of her sickness, the king hastened to 
Normandy, and arrived in time to see her expire, on the 2d of 
November, 1084, in the seventeenth year of the Conqueror's 
reign. The death of Matilda caused the sincerest grief to her 
husband; he wept bitterly, and even renounced his favorite 
amusement of hunting. He had, in, fact, ever evinced toward 
her the sincerity of friendship as well as the most devoted 
affection. The old chronicles assure us that "the counsels 
of Matilda more than once tempered the harsh and cruel dis- 
position of the Conqueror toward his English subjects, and 
inclined him to clemency; but that after her death William 
gave himself up wholly to his tyrannical temper." The four 
years which he survived her were to him years of trouble and 
anxiety. 

Notwithstanding the occasional causes of displeasure which 
the queen gave her husband, she enjoyed a state of much 
conjugal felicity with him during thirty-three years, and 
brought him four sons and five daughters. Of the former, 
Richard died during his father's lifetime, Robert was Duke 
of Normandy, and William Rufus and Henry successively 
mounted the throne of England. Of the daughters, Caroline 
became Abbess of the Church of the Holy Trinity at Caen, 
Constance married the Duke of Bretagne, Margaret died young, 
Alice was united to the Earl of Blois, and Eleanor to the 
King of Navarre. 

The remains of Queen Matilda were interred in the abbey 
of the Holy Trinity at Caen, which she had herself erected. 
A magnificent monument was raised to her memory, and an 
epitaph in Latin verse, emblazoned in gold letters, set forth 
her high descent, marriage, and noble qualities. Her estates 
and property, which were inconsiderable, became the property 
of her son Henry. 

Old historians all agree in the character of this queen ; that 
she was amiable, accomplished, refined in manners, and remark- 
able for her learning ; which last seems proved by her patron- 
age of learned establishments. She was the founder of many 
charitable institutions, where the hungry were fed, the naked 
clothed, and where the weary pilgrim was sheltered. -Hers 
was not alone a charity of words, but of deeds. 



MATILDA OF SCOTLAND, 

QUEEN OF HENRY THE FIRST. 

At the beginning - of the reign of William, England's first 
Norman ruler, a royal Saxon mother, with her three father- 
less children, took ship secretly and fled from the Conqueror's 
court. She was Agatha, daughter of the Emperor Henry 
the Second of Germany, and widow of Edward Atheling. 
The royal lineage of her children made them obnoxious to 
the stern Norman usurper, who bore no good-will to any 
descendants of the Saxon Alfred, to whose memory and pos- 
terity the conquered nation still fondly clung. Therefore, 
the royal Agatha thought it best not to trust to William's 
specious promises, but to take refuge with her own kindred 
in Hungary, carrying with her her son Edgar Atheling, and 
her two daughters, Margaret and Christina. 

But scarcely had the vessel entered on her course when 
a storm arose, and instead of crossing the narrow straits 
to the continent, she drifted northward for many weary days, 
until at last, being driven to the coast of Scotland, she cast 
anchor in the Firth of Forth. The King of Scotland was 
then young Malcolm Canmore — Shakespeare's Malcolm — son 
of that "gentle Duncan" so treacherously murdered by Mac- 
beth. He had just recovered his throne, and seen the fearful 
end of the regicide usurper and tyrant, who had made 

"Good men's lives 
To perish with the flowers in their caps, 
Dying or ere they sicken ;" 

and was striving, with the generous and kingly heart with 
which history shows him gifted, to restore peace to his ravaged 
land. The young king heard of the royal Saxon pilgrims 
who had been driven on his coasts, and touched, doubtless, 
by the memory of kindness shown to himself when he had 
fled an exile from his throne and country to England, visited 



MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. it 

Agatha, and showed every attention and respect to her who 
had been once a queen, and to her children. Margaret, the 
elder of the two young princesses, was a beautiful girl, in 
the first dawn of womanhood, with soft blue eyes, and long 
silken, fair hair — hair celebrated seven hundred years after 
Margaret had lived, reigned, and died. Young Malcolm saw, 
loved, and wooed her, and the fugitive Agatha joyfully con- 
sented to a marriage which made- her daughter Queen of 
Scotland, and united the fallen fortunes of her house to one 
not less royal or noble, and worthy of alliance with the child 
of Edward Atheling. So the young Scottish monarch won 
the bride which fortune and those seemingly adverse winds 
had cast upon his shores ; and the place where fair Margaret 
first set her foot on Scottish ground is called "Queen's Ferry" 
to this day. 

The union thus suddenly formed, as it were by the hand 
of destiny, proved most happy. Margaret brought to the 
half-civilized Scottish court the Anglo-Saxon refinement which 
had been first taught by Alfred the Great, and had gathered 
strength from the time of those palmy days until the rude 
Norman barons came and destroyed all. We may judge of the 
intellectual condition of Malcolm's court from the fact that 
the young king himself could neither read nor write, and that 
the sole amusement of the nobility consisted in hunting, fight- 
ing, and feasting. No very refined society was this for the 
widow of Edward Atheling; but the gentle Margaret loved 
her young husband, as indeed she was bound to do, in return 
for the disinterested affection which had made him choose 
her, an exiled and disinherited princess, to be Queen of Scot- 
land. By the influence of love she exercised the strongest 
sway over Malcolm ; to a meek spirit she united a firm and 
clear judgment and a pious mind. All these qualities won 
her the highest respect from her rude but generous-hearted 
lord, and her influence over him lasted to the end of his life. 

In good time the young queen of Scotland became a mother. 
Her first child, a daughter, was born in the year 1077, and 
to her Margaret gave the sweet Saxon name of Editha ; but 
circumstances occurred which changed the appellation of the 
little maiden to one better known in history. Thus it hap- 
pened. Robert, the eldest son of William the Conqueror, 
was leading his father's troops against Malcolm of Scotland, 
the two countries being then at war. Soon after the birth of 



12 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the little princess peace was concluded ; and, to ratify the treaty 
by an interchange of friendly intercourse, Malcolm invited 
Robert to officiate as sponsor to this, his first child. Prince 
Robert, therefore, visited Scotland and saw his young god- 
daughter baptized ; and, out of compliment to him, Editha 
was changed to Matilda, the name of his own well-beloved 
mother, Matilda of Flanders, wife of the Conqueror. 

The young princess grew up under the fostering care of 
her mother. Margaret was as examplary in her conduct 
toward her children as toward her husband ; indeed, from 
the accounts left by her chaplain and biographer, Turgot of 
Durham, she must have been a noble creature. To this said 
Turgot was confided the charge of the children of Malcolm 
and Margaret, and he well deserved the trust ; for he had 
followed the Queen of Scotland through all her changing 
fortunes with unwearied devotion. Under his care Matilda 
grew up, educated in a much higher degree than was usual 
even to princesses in those early times. 

On the accession of William Rufus, Edgar, who in child- 
hood had been brought up on terms of friendship with the 
princes of Normandy, again repaired to England, or, most 
probably, was invited thither by the good-natured but hasty 
and weak-minded Rufus. 

Meanwhile, Christina remained with her sister. She seems 
to have been a woman of violent temper, and strong, bitter 
prejudices, the very opposite of the mild and pious Margaret. 
She was a nun, and, like most devotees, wished to bind every 
one with the same fetters which she had wound around her- 
self. All her influence with the queen her sister was exerted 
to cause her to devote the young Matilda to the vows of the 
cloister; and probably the harsh ascetic would have succeeded 
in winning Margaret over to doom her child to that dreary 
life, but for the interference of King Malcolm. He, the wild, 
heathen ruler of an equally heathen people, — as saintly Chris- 
tina no doubt thought, — had no idea of consenting to his daugh- 
ter's self-immolation. One day the child was brought into 
his presence wearing a novice's veil, the token of her future 
fate. The indignant father immediately tore it off, declaring 
to Alan, Duke of Bretagne, who stood by, "that he would 
have his daughter a wedded wife, not a veiled nun." 

Thus Christina's plans were defeated, and the queen herself 
was too submissive and right-minded to contest her husband's 



MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 13 

will. She had another daughter, Mary, and several sons ; 
so that the race of murdered Duncan bade fair to be as numer- 
ous as the shadowy kings in Macbeth's vision; but the flower 
of them all was Matilda. This young princess grew from 
childhood to girlhood, beautiful as her mother had been, and 
resembling her, too, in sweetness of disposition. While still 
very young, she was asked in marriage by Alan of Bretagne, 
the same who had witnessed her father's anger at seeing her 
with the nun's veil, and who was.a frequent guest at Malcolm's 
court. Alan had previously married Constance, daughter of 
William the Conqueror, who died in. the bloom of womanhood. 
He was a man of mature years, and not very well suited to the 
fair young princess of Scotland. Matilda rejected him in a 
manner which showed her gentleness and good sense even at 
the dawn of life. 

The residence of Edgar Atheling at the English court, and 
the friendly ties which ought to have connected the two coun- 
tries, did not prevent various wars between England and Scot- 
land. Malcolm, in 1093, left Scotland, heedless even of the 
failing health of his beloved Margaret, and, burning with 
indignation at some fancied wrong, entered England, deter- 
mined to carry fire and sword into the hills and valleys of 
fair Northumberland. 

The chieftain king of Scotland was triumphant to his heart's 
desire. He laid waste wherever he came, and at last besieged 
the castle of Alnwick, the chief stronghold of the 'English 
power. The governor of the fortress sent a messenger to 
his formidable opponent, offering to give up Alnwick to Mal- 
colm's conquering power, provided that the king would receive 
the keys with his own hand. Malcolm consented, and a knight 
rode forward from the besieged castle, bearing the keys on 
the point of his lance. Eager to seize the tokens of his victory, 
the king stooped to receive the keys, and his wily adversary 
pierced the spear through the eye of the unfortunate monarch 
into his very brain. Malcolm lingered during a few hours of 
terrible agony, and then died. 

While this horrible tragedy took place at Alnwick, Queen 
Margaret lay dying in her palace at Dunfermline; her last 
moments being agonized by anxiety for her absent lord, and 
her son, Prince Edward, who, young as he was, had accom- 
panied his father to the field. Not even the religious consola- 
tions of the good Turgot, nor the affectionate care of her 



i 4 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

two daughters and her son Edgar, could win the thoughts of 
the dying wife and mother from those beloved absent ones. 
It was many days before the tidings of Malcolm's horrible 
death could reach Dunfermline. When they did, Margaret was 
in the agonies of death. Prince Edgar received the messenger, 
and then returned to his mother's couch. 

"How fares it with the king and my Edward?" faintly 
asked the dying queen; but her son made no reply. "I know 
all," added Margaret, "and I conjure you by this holy cross 
to tell me the worst." 

"Both are dead," said the young prince, mournfully. His 
mother's only answer was a prayer, which Turgot, who wit- 
nessed the scene, has preserved ; and with the words "Deliver 
me" on her lips, the pious and gentle-hearted Margaret expired. 

Thus Matilda became doubly an orphan. 

The remains of good Queen Margaret, one of the best queens 
that ever reigned in Scotland, were interred at Dunfermline ; 
and so great was the love the Scottish nation bore to their 
Saxon queen, that her tomb was for ages considered as a 
shrine where miracles were said to be performed.* 

Hardly were the bones of Malcolm and Margaret laid in 
their last resting-place, than their children were driven from 
Scotland by a usurper. This was Donald Bane, younger son 
of Duncan, who, on his brother's death, took advantage of 
the youth and helplessness of Malcolm's heir, and seized upon 
the Scottish throne. Edgar Atheling, who had probably come 
to fulfill a brother's part to his departed sister, acted as befitted 
one who owed so much to both Malcolm and Margaret, and 
befriended their children. He brought the orphans in safety 
to England, and placed Matilda and Mary under the care of 
their aunt, Christina Atheling, who, having previously left 
her sister's realm, was then Abbess of Romsey Nunnery. 

Matilda was then only sixteen, and Mary still younger. 

Though Christina ruled her nieces with an iron hand, she 
did not neglect to give them the education becoming their 
royal birth. Matilda and Mary were instructed in the litera- 
ture of the times, in which the elder attained a degree of 
knowledge far above most of her sex. She also excelled in 



*At the Reformation, Margaret's body was disinterred, and her head 
was preserved in the Scots' College of Douay, where Carruthers, ,the 
historian, saw it in 1785. It was still perfect, with long tresses of beau- 
tiful fair hair. 



MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 15 

music ; and her after-history shows that she must have pos- 
sessed a mind of the highest order, cultivated in a manner 
which throws no discredit on the system of female education 
pursued by Abbess Christina. This stern but not ill-intentioned 
woman, while she held .forth to her nieces the monastic life 
to which they were destined, did not shut them out from all 
society ; for, about this time, Matilda received two proposals 
of marriage, one from her former s.uitor, Alan of Bretagne, 
both of which, however, she declined. 

Henry's first act on coming to the throne was to confirm 
to his Saxon subjects the laws and privileges granted by 
their beloved king Alfred ; his second, to declare that he had 
resolved upon a union with a princess of Saxon lineage, one 
of that royal race still so fondly remembered. This was the 
Princess Matilda. 

Wild was the joy that rang through the length and breadth 
of the land when the Saxons knew that a descendant of the 
revered Alfred was again to reign over them. But the effect 
of this intelligence on Matilda herself has been variously stated 
by historians, some alleging that she consented joyfully to 
this union with one she had long loved ; and others, that she 
was only persuaded to espouse Henry for the sake of the 
peace of the nation, which such a marriage would secure, and 
that she never loved her husband. But it is impossible to 
reconcile this statement with Matilda's own conduct in refusing 
William Warren ; in desiring to quit the nunnery, and with 
her own frank manner when called upon to decide for herself 
on this royal marriage. 

But many hindrances rose up to prevent this auspicious 
union. Henry had formally asked his bride of her uncle, Edgar 
Atheling, who eagerly and joyfully consented ; but when the 
king wished to remove Matilda from the nunnery of Romsey, 
Christina, the abbess, violently withstood him. She declared 
that the marriage was a sacrilege, that her niece was a pro- 
fessed nun, having been vowed to the altar by her parents 
in early youth, and having afterwards herself voluntarily 
confirmed the vows. These asseverations from so saintly a 
personage seemed at first a death-blow to Henry's wishes ; 
for even to contemplate marriage with a nun was held to be 
a most heinous crime in the sight of God and man Even the 
Saxons dared not hazard the advice of such a thing, much 
as they desired to have Matilda for their queen. But the king 



16 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

did not despair, and the steadiness with which he pursued his 
project, in spite of all hindrances and discouragement, proves 
that it was with him more than a matter of state policy. All 
the desire in the world to conciliate the Saxons would never 
have led him to measures which placed him in peril of excom- 
munication, had his heart not been interested in the union for 
which he risked so much. 

In spite of all that wiser heads could do to prevent him, 
the young king determined on calling a council or synod of 
all the ecclesiastical authorities in the kingdom. These dig- 
nitaries assembled at Lambeth Palace, the Archbishop Anselm 
being at their head. They deliberated for many days, and at 
last resolved on summoning the Princess Matilda herself, that 
she might by her own confession decide her own cause. It 
was a bold step, even in those days, to call a princess of the 
blood to witness before such an assembly, and on such a sub- 
ject, in which she must either vow herself for life to the 
cloister, resigning the high destiny that lay at her very feet, 
or give the lie to her nearest relation, a woman whom all 
regarded with the respect due to her ancestry and office, if 
not exacted by her character. Well might the royal maiden 
tremble and shrink when she stood before the priestly con- 
clave. But the spirit of her fearless Scottish ancestors was 
within her, and Matilda gave her answers with firmness and 
dignity, befitting her womanly nature no less than her exalted 
rank. 

The first question was asked by Anselm — it was the plain, 
straightforward inquiry, whether she were a nun or - not. 
Matilda replied, decisively and without hesitation, "No!" This 
explicit denial was not sufficient to satisfy the priests, and some 
of them, with a pertinacity that seemed very like insult, after 
her declaration, inquired whether she had taken the veil by 
the enforcement of her parents, or by her own free will. 

"By neither ! — since I have not taken it at all," answered 
the princess. 

Again she was questioned as to whether she had not worn 
the black veil of a nun both in Scotland and at Romsey. This 
fact Matilda neither could nor would deny, but with a naive 
simplicity that shows how completely the recluse of Romsey 
had preserved her girlish feelings, she told the story of her 
aunt Christina having sent her into King Malcolm's presence 
wearing a veil, and his great anger ; and how the abbess had 




G^a/iJf&^&MUn 



MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 17 

forced her to assume a nun's garb at Rumsey, her hatred to- 
the costume, and her petulant tearing it off on everv possible 
occasion. The will of the king, the plain statement of the 
young princess, and the voice of the nation in general — all 
declared for Matilda. She was pronounced free from all 
convent-vows, and besought by king, nobles, and people, to 
wed Henry, and become Queen of England. 

How Christina bore this mortification, history sayeth not. 
Both her young novices had fled ; for Mary, equally glad to 
escape from her aunt's stern rule, quitted the convent with 
Matilda, and soon after became a bride. The marriage of the 
royal lovers took place at Westminster, on St. Martin's day, 
November nth, 1100. William of Malmesbury, the quaint 
chronicler of the time, relates the circumstances with great 
exactness. It' must have been one of the strangest weddings 
that ever took place in those old walls, which have witnessesd 
the bridals of so many English rulers. Previous to the cere- 
mony, Archbishop Anselm — who seems throughout to have been 
a friend and confidant of Henry, and who was probably himself 
of Saxon blood — mounted the pulpit, and there, in a long 
discourse, more suited to the legal precincts of the neighboring 
hall than to the old abbey and the assembled marriage guests, 
told the whole proceedings of the synod, and its final opinion 
that Matilda was free to wed. He ended by an impassioned call 
on the people to confirm this decree, and was answered by an 
enthusiastic shout — ''Long live Queen Matilda !" after which 
the good Anselm descended from his rostrum, and joined the 
hands of King Henry and his bride. Thiis, to the great joy of 
the whole nation, the two royal lines, Saxon and Norman, were 
united, and the rights of the after-sovereigns made sure. 

Matilda, the Queen of England, is a character who shines 
with as bright a lustre as Matilda the gentle princess in the 
nunnery of Romsey. Her piety, her conjugal virtues, and her 
generous spirit, were worthy of the daughter of Margaret Athe- 
ling. She resided chiefly at the palace of Westminster, and 
from thence she dispensed her good deeds, and proved that the 
English had done wisely in wishing for a Saxon queen. Her 
influence with Henry confirmed him in all his good intentions 
with regard to his Saxon subjects, and they now enjoyed favors 
and privileges such as they had not had since William of' Nor- 
mandy set his foot on English shores. This excited the ire of 
the proud Norman barons, who during the two preceding reigns 
had grown fat with plunder, and had ravaged and seized upon 



i8 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the broad lands of the conquered at their will. Now, the Saxon 
nobles were of equal importance in the state with themselves, 
and the foreign lords no longer held supreme sway at the court 
at Westminster. 

The Normans tried every means to separate Henry from his 
Saxon wife ; but the wedded love between the young pair 
resisted all wily snares, and at last the barons tried outward 
aggression to drive Henry from the throne. They urged 
Robert of Normandy to come over and claim his father's 
crown ; and the prince, who seems to have had a tolerable share 
of the Conqueror's warlike and grasping nature, readily con- 
sented. He landed at Portsmouth, with all the troops that his 
own small dominions could muster, and immediately the Anglo- 
Norman barons flocked to his standard. Robert might probably 
have t soon become King of England, but for a fatality which 
shows how in this world small things often influence great 
events. 

Queen Matilda chanced to be at Winchester at the very time 
of Robert's assault on the place. They brought news to the 
besieger that a mother's pains had come upon her, and that her 
first-born child had just seen the light. No sooner did the 
generous-hearted Robert hear these tidings of his god-daughter 
and favorite, than he remembered no longer she was the wife 
of the brother whom he sought to dethrone; he withdrew his 
troops from Winchester, saying that "no man could ever 
besiege a woman at such a time." 

By this delay Robert lost his advantage ; for it gave Henry 
time to collect his devoted Saxon adherents, and make ready to 
defend his throne. But ere the brothers came to open war, 
there rose up a gentle mediator between them. This was no 
other than Matilda the queen. Touched by the personal kind- 
ness of her brother-in-law, she strove with all her power to 
soften Henry's anger, and the husband could not resist her 
influence. Perhaps Henry felt more kindly disposed towards 
Robert, when he looked at his eldest born, Prince William,, 
and remembered what a generous action had prevented the 
child's birth being surrounded by the horrors of war. Matilda 
then tried her power with her godfather, and with equal success. 
Robert was of a temper the very reverse of persevering, and 
was easily persuaded to relinquish his claim ; Henry agreeing to 
pay him a sum of money yearly out of the royal treasury, pro- 
vided that neither he nor his son William ever asserted the right 
of the elder line to the English crown. 



MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 19 

To confirm this amicable treaty, Henry invited his brother to 
his court, and Robert came. Six months were spent in gaiety 
and feasting; never had there been such merry times in Eng- 
uand ; the land was at peace ; there were no wars without, and 
no internal commotions ; the reigning king and queen were 
undisturbed in their united rights, and they were equally united 
in their domestic affection. The country prospered, and the 
conflicting races of Saxons and Normans began to intermingle. 
Henry, by the choice of a good queen, .had done more to secure 
his power than if he had gone through the kingdom with an 
army of warriors. 

Matilda's domestic life was one of extreme piety ; in these 
days we should have called her a devotee, but still in the world's 
youth much outward show was needed and displayed ; and 
Matilda was probably truly sincere in her self-imposed devo- 
tional exercises ; such as making pilgrimages, barefooted, to the 
Abbey of Westminster, and washing and kissing the feet of the 
poor, duties we should now consider very unnecessary, and 
quite unbefitting a royal lady. Yet Matilda's simple-minded 
subjects loved her the more for this voluntary humility, and 
each day gave her firmer hold on their hearts. 

But Matilda's exertions for the good of her people were not 
confined to these religious observances. She tried in every way 
to improve the condition of the country, by causing roads to be 
made where before were wild heaths and forests. Thus com- 
merce was facilitated, and a general amelioration in society 
effected. In the nineteenth century, when hedged roads inter- 
sect the land from end to end, and railways cut across the most 
solitary places, we can hardly imagine such a state of things as 
existed at the time of which we write, when there was hardly 
a road, except the four Roman ones, of which traces still remain, 
and when not a bridge yet spanned our rivers and streams. The 
first bridge that ever was built we owe to Matilda. It still 
stretches its one arch over the river Lea, at Stratford-le-Bow, 
to commemorate the place where its royal founder had once 
nearly met her death by a sudden flood. 

Several hospitals, particularly St. Giles in the Fields, and 
Christ Church, where Duke's Place now is, and several charit- 
able communities owe their foundation to Matilda; indeed, she 
seems to have done more real good to the nation than many of 
the kings who preceded and followed her. To be able to effect 
this, she must have possessed more power in the government 
than is generally the prerogative of a queen-consort ; but Henry 



20 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

doubtless remembered that she had at least an equal right to 
the throne with himself. Still Matilda had need of all her 
woman's tact and gentleness to preserve the line between a 
queen exercising the power which was her right, and a wife 
owing all to her husband, and acknowledging with the willing- 
ness of love his superior rule. 

Hardly a year had passed since Robert of Normandy returned 
home, when Matilda was again called to act as peacemaker 
between him and her husband, and again she was successful. 
But here she is charged by historians with wily conduct, that 
seems at variance with her high character; she is alleged to 
have used her influence with her godfather to persuade him to 
relinquish the pension from the English crown, which Robert 
claimed as a right, and Henry tardily bestowed. However this 
may be, Matilda succeeded in making peace between the 
brothers ; but it was on a false foundation, and when the differ- 
ence once more broke out, it was healed no more. 

Henry at this time forgot the generally mild tenor of his 
government, and, against Matilda's will used harsh treatment 
towards one who ought to have received the deepest gratitude 
from both — Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury. The prelate 
either fled the kingdom or was banished ; and Henry was long 
inexorable to his queen's entreaties, that one who had been 
so instrumental in procuring their wedded happiness should be 
recalled. At last, Matilda's arguments, joined to those of Adela 
of Blois, Henry's favorite sister, produced their effect, and 
Anselm was recalled. Matilda joyfully received the' aged and 
infirm prelate, having sent her own attendants to convey him by 
easy stages from the coast to London ; but Anselm was hardly 
reinstated in his power when he issued harsh edicts, which 
carried sorrow over the land. 

He proceeded to enforce the celibacy of the clergy, and to 
excommunicate all those who resisted his command ; and 
Matilda found herself powerless to check the misery which 
resulted. 

Matilda had now two sons, William and Richard, and a 
daughter, who was first called Alice, and then bore the beloved 
name of her mother, Matilda. This princess was afterwards 
the Empress Matilda, or Maude, of Germany, mother of Henry 
the Second, in whom was continued the royal Saxon line. 
Richard died young; and William was the unfortunate prince 
who perished in the White Ship, a martyr to fraternal love. 
But no shadows of these coming sorrows rested upon Matilda's 



MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 21 

young children then ; and her domestic life was supremely 
happy. She was a devoted mother; her sons were instructed 
in all the learning of the day, and her only daughter was placed, 
as were the noble maidens of the time, in a royal convent for 
her education. As Matilda chose the same in which her own 
early years had been spent, the Abbess Christina was probably 
either dead or else now at peace with her royal niece ; and the 
queen had little fear of the same harsh rule being exercised 
towards her daughter as towards herself. 

After a short space of quiet, war broke out between Henry 
and his brother, but it was for the last time. A short but fearful 
struggle terminated by a battle fought in Normandy, which 
decided the fate of the unfortunate Robert. He was taken 
prisoner, with his only son William, and Edgar Atheling, who 
had clung to his friend of old time even though his faithfulness 
involved a contest with his own niece and her husband. Ma- 
tilda entreated for her uncle : and Henry, either touched by her 
prayers, or else thinking the weak but good-natured Edgar no 
dangerous foe, released the Saxon prince, and also freed young 
William of Normandy. But Duke Robert, whose restless and 
continual disputings excited the deepest hatred in his brother's 
heart, was sent to Cardiff Castle ; first as a sort of honorable 
captive, then as a prisoner of state, who was treated with the 
utmost rigor. At last, when there was no Matilda to plead 
for him, Robert perished by a violent and horrible death ; and 
even the suspicion that his brother was cognizant of the crime, 
casts a fearful shadow on the reign of Henry Beauclerc. 

When the royal prisoner was thus safe, there was peace for 
a long time in England. Henry and his queen pursued their 
efforts for the benefit of the country, and made progresses, with 
their children and suite, from province to province, visiting 
different noblemen, like our own Victoria, of whom, in her do- 
mestic character and relations, Matilda was the prototype. The 
palace at Windsor was erected by Henry, and first made a royal 
residence by his queen. Woodstock is also owing to them ; for 
Henry enclosed it as a sort of rude zoological garden, where he 
might indulge the royal hobby of keeping strange animals. So 
great was Henry's love for natural history, that he used to beg 
lions, tigers, and wolves of his' brother kings, with which 
inestimable presents he enriched his menagerie. 

The two surviving children of Henry and Matilda were 
betrothed when almost in infancy ; the princess to the Emperor 
of Germany, and Prince William to Alice of Anjou, whom he 



22 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

wedded only a few months before the fatal wreck of the 
Blanchenef made her a widow, faithful to his memory until 
death. William and his sister were both promising children, 
though even in youth Matilda showed the germ of that haughty 
spirit through which she afterwards lost the English crown. 

During the years which had elapsed since Henry ascended the 
throne, he had been fortunate in domestic life, and prosperous 
in his kingdom. His people loved him much, and he fulfilled 
the promises which he had made on his accession. On every 
occasion he showed respect to the laws and customs of the race 
from whence his queen had sprung ; and the enthusiastic loyalty 
of the Saxons was raised to the highest pitch when Henry and 
Matilda personally attended the removal of the bones of the 
beloved Alfred and his queen from their lowly tomb near Win- 
chester, to Hyde Abbey, founded and endowed by them as a 
fitting resting-place for that truly noble king. The ceremony 
was conducted with great pomp and royal state, and was a just 
tribute of respect to the remains of one of England's greatest 
monarchs. 

Henry and Matilda passed the Christmas of 1115 together at 
the Abbey of St. Alban's, where a portrait of the queen was 
painted, of which a copy still exists in the Golden Book of St. 
Albans, now in the British Museum, which confirms the reputa- 
tion of Matilda for a mild and amiable beauty. . Besides this 
portrait, there is also a statue of this excellent queen in the 
Cathedral of Rochester, forming the pilaster of the western 
door ; one of the king forming the other. 

The latter years of Matilda's life were far from peaceful. The 
tumults that constantly rose up in Henry's new kingdom of 
Normandy seemed a punishment for his injustice towards his 
brother in thus seizing upon his duchy. Sometimes young 
William of Normandy vainly struggled with his uncle — some- 
times it was the people themselves who rebelled against their 
new ruler. Henry's presence was frequently required abroad, 
to subdue these revolts A and his absences from Matilda were 
long and frequent. He showed his confidence and affection by 
always making the queen regent during his absence, and thus 
England was ruled quite as often by the queen as by the king. 
Matilda was not seldom deprived of her son as well as her 
husband, for Prince William usually accompanied his father. 

At Christmas, 11 17, Henry returned home, after a long 
sojourn in Normandy, leaving Prince William there still. Ma- 
tilda's health was declining fast, and she had wished to see her 



MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 23 

husband and son once more. It was a great sorrow to her 
when the prince did not return ; for William was now her only- 
son, Richard being dead. The king and queen spent Christmas 
together, almost in seclusion, on account of Matilda's health. 
At the early age of forty, this good queen felt herself fast 
departing from the world, by a gradual decay of strength, which 
was probably consumption. She would not suffer her husband 
to remain with her to the injury of his rule in Normandy, which 
was in such an unsettled state ; and Henry again departed. It 
was the last farewell of the husband and wife. 

Maltilda lingered through the spring, patiently enduring her 
long sickness in her solitary palace at Westminster, her favorite 
abode, and the one to which she had been brought a bride eight- 
een years before. No children were with her ; her sole compan- 
ions being three high-born Saxon ladies, her maids of honor, 
who were devotedly attached to their royal mistress, so much so 
that after her death they entered a nunnery. During the weary 
months of solitude,. Matilda calmly prepared for death, and 
awaited the great change with patience and hope, continuing 
her religious exercises to the last. She died on May-day, 11 18. 
Henry did not even return to attend the obsequies of his 
departed consort ; and Matilda was laid by the side of Edward 
the Confessor, in Westminster Abbey, her sole mourners being 
her own attendants and her subjects, by whom she was passion- 
ately lamented, and fondly remembered for centuries by the title 
of "Good Queen Maude." 

As a queen, a wife, a mother, she was blameless. Her piety 
was equaled by her benevolence, and to this day the effects of 
her good influence over her husband and her people are felt- in 
the land. We will close Matilda's history with a tribute to her 
memory by a contemporary writer, William of Huntingdon ; 
of which our English is, at all events, a faithful translation : 

"Prospera non lsetam fecere ; nee aspera tristem; 
Aspera risus erantprospera terror erant; 
Non decor erf ecit fragilem, non sceptra superbarri ; 
Sola potens humilis, sola pudica decens." 

"Prosperity her soul elated not. 

Nor sorrow bowed her down ; ever to her 
Grief came like gladness — fortune, terror brought. 

Her beauty was to sin no minister. 
Her scepter gave no pride. Her sovereign dower." 
Was meekness ; modesty her richest dower." 



ADELAIS OF LOUVAINE, 

THE SECOND WIFE OF KING HENRY THE FIRST. 

The second choice of Henry Beauclerc was fortunate. For 
her beauty Adelais of Louvaine was distinguished by the ap- 
pellation of the "fair maid of Brabant," and she was no less 
skillful with her pen than in the use of her needle, the great 
accomplishment of the age. 

The. famous standard of silk and gold, which was captured 
by the Bishop of Liege and the Earl of Limbourg, in a battle 
fought in 1 129, near the Castle of Duras, was the work of 
Adelais, and was celebrated throughout Europe for the .beauty 
of its design and the consummate excellence of its workman- 
ship. The plain where this prize was taken was called the 
"field of the Standard," and the victors placed their trophy as 
a lasting memorial in the great church of St. Lambert at Liege, 
where for centuries after it was carried through the city on 
great occasions. 

Adelais of Louvaine was of a truly regal descent, her an- 
cestors being lineal descendants of Charles, the brother of 
Lothaire of France; and her father Godfrey, the great Duke 
of Brabant and Lothin (or Louvaine), a powerful and war- 
like prince. 

The English monarch, however, sought not the hand of the 
fair Adelais, either for her beauty. Or her accomplishments. 
His heart was deadened by the loss of his beloved Queen Ma- 
tilda and of his noble son, who perished in the waves. Hav- 
ing, therefore, no child left but the Empress Matilda of Ger- 
many, it was in the hope of male descendants that he con- 
tracted his second marriage. Nevertheless, he appears not to 
have undervalued the lady; he offered a magnificent dower, 
and even undertook to escort his bride from Louvaine into 
England. 

The day after her arrival, the nuptials are believed to have 

24 



ADELAIS OF LOUVAINE. 25 

been privately celebrated at Ely. The public celebration at 
Windsor having been delayed some month's, owing to a dispute 
between the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of 
Salisbury as to which had the right of marrying the royal pair. 
At length the dispute was decided by an ecclesiastical council 
in favor of the archbishop, who was a very aged man, Henry 
endeavoring to console his favorite, the Bishop of Salisbury, 
by appointing him to perform the ceremonial of the coronation 
on the following day, at Westminster. Scarcely, however, 
was the ceremony completed, when the archbishop appeared, 
and demanded of the king, "who had put the crown on his 
head?" and receiving an evasive reply, smote him a blow with 
his crozier which struck off the crown, after which he replaced 
it with his own hand, and then proceeded to crown the queen. 
This coronation took place on Sunday, the 30th day of Janu- 
ary, 1 121. 

The dignity and surpassing loveliness of the queen, who had 
just attained her eighteenth year, have been recorded by Henry 
of Huntingdon, an actual witness of the scene, in the follow- 
ing lines : 

'•'Your Crown and Jewels when compared to you, 
How poor your Crown, how pale your jewels shew! 
Take off your robes, your rich attire remove ; 
Such pomp may load you, but can ne'er improve. 
In vain your costly ornaments are worn, 
You they obscure, whilst others they adorn. 
Ah! what new luster can these trifles give, 
Which all their beauty from your charms receive?" 

The Bishop of Rennes, also, bore testimony to the unparal- 
leled beauty of the "queen of the Angles," as he styles Adelais, 
of whom he speaks with enthusiasm, dwelling particularly 
on her winning manners, and her "honey-dropping words." 

For some time after her marriage Queen Adelais resided 
at Woodstock, where was the royal menagerie, of which men- 
tion was made in the foregoing life, and to which an aviary 
was attached. In his taste for natural history Beauclerc found 
in his second consort an agreeable companion, who partici- 
pated in his enjoyments, not only taking a lively interest in 
his love of animals, but also encouraging the writers of the 
day to diffuse information on this, as well as on other literary 
subjects. Philip de Thuan dedicated to her his work, called 
"Bestiarius," which was written in the Anglo-Norman tongue ; 



26 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

and he tells us that he "has written an elementary book of 
animals, for the praise and instruction of a good and beauteous 
woman, who is crowned Queen of England, and named Alix."* 

The example of the queen stimulated many ladies of the 
court to patronize literary merit ; among these were the fair 
Alice de Conde and the Lady Constance la Gentil, who courted 
the Muses. The poem entitled the "Voyage of St. Brandon" 
was composed at the queen's request ; and Adelais, anxious to 
perpetuate the fame of her learned husband, also occupied 
herself in assisting one of the trouveres of her court, named 
David, to write his life. 

While these pleasing pursuits engaged the attention of 
Henry and his consort, six years passed away, yet Adelais 
had no children, and great was the disappointment of the king, 
who, on his return from the Continent, in 1126, brought with 
him his widowed daughter, the Empress Matilda, whom he 
caused to be acknowledged as his successor. 

For twelve months Matilda was the constant companion of 
Queen Adelais, when after much domestic discomfort, in which, 
however, the character of Adelais appears in a very favorable 
light, she was, much against her own will, bestowed by her 
father in marriage on Geoffrey Plantagenet, Earl of Anjou. 
Once more the king obliged his nobility to renew their oaths 
of allegiance to his daughter; but her marriage was far from 
a happy one, nor was it until six years afterwards that she, 
to the great joy of her father, gave birth to a son, who was des- 
tined to be his successor. The name of Henry was bestowed 
on the infant prince, and the last parliament of Henry I.'s 
reign was expressly held in 1133, to secure the crown to his 
grandson, who was included with his mother, the empress, in 
the oath of fealty. Shortly afterward the king embarked for 
Normandy, where he died in the year 1135, in the castle of 
Lyons, near Rouen ; whence, after his remains were embalmed, 
they were conveyed to England and interred in Reading Abbey. 

Queen Adelais bestowed the manor of Eton, in Hertfordshire, 
on this abbey, for prayers to be said for the soul of the king, 
her husband ; also the manor of Stanton Harcourt, in Oxford- 
shire, and several churches, for the expenses of an anniversary 
service for the same purpose. She also placed a pall on the altar 

*Alix, in Hebrew, signifies "the praise of God." There are many 
readings of it ; as Aliz, Alice, Alicia, Adeliza. 



ADELAIS OF LOUVAlNE. 27 

with her own hand, and added 100 shillings annually, to provide 
a lamp to burn forever before his tomb. 

Adelais spent part of her widowhood near Wilton, in a 
house which bears her name, and at the end of a year, repaired 
to Arundel Castle, where she dwelt in regal state. In 1138, 
three years after the death of the king, being then in her 
thirty-scond year, she married William di Albini, Lord of 
Buckenham, in Norfolk, a nobleman of high renown, whose 
father had accompanied the Conqueror into England, as hered- 
itary cup-bearer of the Norman dukes, which office was con- 
firmed to him and his descendants. 

William di Albini obtained the surname of "Strongimanus," 
or "Strong Hand," from an incident no less marvelous than 
interesting, and which, being connected with his love for Ade- 
lais, to whom he was at that time affianced, is worthy of being 
related. It appears that at a tournament held at Bruges, on 
occasion of the marriage of Louis VII. with Eleanor of Aqui- 
taine, William di Albini, having entered the lists, and excelled 
all his competitors in skill and prowess, the Queen Dowager 
of France, a very beautiful woman, whose name also was Ade- 
lais, fell in love with him. After the tournament, therefore, 
she invited him to a costly banquet, presented him with some 
rich jewels as a reward of his merit, and then proffered him 
her hand, which he declined in respectful terms, assigning as a 
reason that his troth was plighted to Adelais, Queen of Eng- 
land. The queen, little expecting such a reply, resolved to be 
revenged ; and inviting him into a garden, in which was a lion 
contained in a secret cave, she led him thither, conversing as 
they went on the fierceness of the animal, to which Albini 
replied, with animation, that "fear was not a manly quality, 
but womanish." Arrived at the lion's den, the queen pushed 
him in, but he, perceiving his danger, wrapped his mantle 
around his arm, and thrusting his hand into the lion's mouth, 
pulled out his tongue, or, as the old chroniclers say, his heart, 
which on returning to the palace, he sent by one of her maids 
as a present, to' the queen. 

On arriving in England, rich with the fame not only of this 
exploit, but of many noble deeds, William di Albini married 
the beautiful Adelais, and was thus advanced to the Earldom 
of Arundel. The arms of the lion were given to him, and the 
white tongueless lion rampant on a red shield is a bearing of 
the Howards, his descendants, to this day. 



28 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

After her second marriage, Queen Adelais continued to re- 
side at Arundel Castle. She still maintained a sincere friend- 
ship for her daughter-in-law, the empress; and in 1139, on 
her coming to England, she and her husband received her into 
their castle of Arundel, and promised her assistance against 
Stephen. Every respect and attention was shown her by 
Adelais, and when Stephen approached with his army, she 
excused herself for receiving the empress on the plea of friend- 
ship, and demanded a safe conduct for her to Bristol, declar- 
ing that, in the event of a refusal, she would defend her castle 
to the last extremity Stephen granted her request, and raised 
the siege. 

Adelais had four sons by her second husband, William, Rey- 
ner, Godfrey and Henry ; and three daughters, Alice, Olive, 
and Agatha. 

Many little memorials of this queen are still extant in the 
vicinity of Arundel Castle. In the parish of Lyminster she 
founded a convent for nuns according to the canons of St. 
Augustine, and contributed largely to the building of Chi- 
chester Cathedral. 

Queen Adelais was forty-eight years of age when she died, 
in 1 151. Sanderus relates that this event took place in the 
monastery of Affligham, near Alost, in Flanders, and that she 
was interred there ; yet we are more inclined to the opinion 
of other writers, who assure us that this queen died in Eng- 
land, and was buried by the earl, her husband, with customary 
honors in St. John's Chapel, Boxgrove, where the remains of 
some of her children had been laid. But let her remains rest 
where they may, she was, during life, a friend to the poor, the 
orphan, and the unfortunate ; a model of piety and goodness, 
blending humility with majesty. 



MATILDA 'THE EMPRESS." 

Matilda (or Maude), the only daughter of Henry the First 
and of Matilda "the Good," was born at the royal city of Win- 
chester, in 1 102. The name of Adelais, by which she is dis- 
tinguished in the Saxon annals, was pobably given her at the 
font, but she is generally known by that of Matilda, or Maude. 
The blood of the Norman and Saxon kings was blended in her 
veins, yet while she inherited her father's talents, she failed to 
exhibit the more resplendent virtues of her mother, from whom 
she was alienated at an early age, and like a tender plant trans- 
ferred to a foreign and ungenial soil. 

Matilda, "the Empress," was destined to be great, but hap- 
piness hardly seemed to come within the sphere of her fortunes ; 
yet she enjoyed the highest imperial rule and honors ever shared 
by woman, and was the foundress of a new dynasty in England, 
under which this country was raised to its highest pitch of 
martial glory. 

The eventful history of this princess may be said to have 
commenced with her cradle. It was at the time of her birth, that 
Duke Robert of Normandy, as already observed, landing to 
assert his claims to the crown, and hearing of the queen's ac- 
couchement, with the gallantry peculiar to him, withdrew from 
before the city of Winchester, leaving the good queen and her 
newly born infant in peace. 

Scarcely had the little princess commenced her education 
with her brother, Prince William, under the care of the learned 
Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, to whom they had been 
entrusted by their mother, when an embassy arrived from Henry 
the Fifth, Emperor of Germany, to demand the hand of the 
young princess in marriage. Her father joyfully accepted these 
proposals, and the nuptials were celebrated, by proxy, in the 
year 1109, when Matilda had but just attained her seventh year. 
King Henry made every preparation to dismiss his daughter to 
her affianced husband in a truly regal style, and for this purpose 

29 



30 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

levied the enormous tax of three shillings upon every hide of 
land in England ; a custom before unknown, but which afforded 
a precedent to succeeding monarchs. The following year the 
little Matilda, all resplendent with jewels, and richly endowed 
with bridal gifts, set off for Germany ; her dower of ten 
thousand marks of silver being committed to the care of the 
trusty knight, Roger FitzRichard, who, with a princely retinue, 
attended the infant bride on her progress towards the land 
destined to be her future home. 

Her reception was magnificent. The emperor met her at 
Utrecht, a prince old enough to have been her father, but age 
was of no consequence in a match of policy, and on the follow- 
ing Easter the royal betrothal took place. Matilda was after- 
wards solemnly crowned at Mayence ; upon which occasion, 
in presence of all the nobility of the empire, the Archbishop of 
Treves held the royal child in his arms, while the Archbishop 
of Colonge encircled her brow with the imperial diadem. 

The English retinue of Matilda was then dismissed by the 
emperor, who desired that his future partner should continue 
her education in conformity with the habits and manners of 
the Germans, and with the knowledge of their language ; he 
gave, therefore, the necessary directions for her studies, ap- 
pointed her a magnificent dower, and arranged her household on 
a scale suitable to her imperial dignity. But young as she then 
was, Matilda probably yearned for the scenes she had left, for 
her playmate, Prince William, whom she was destined never 
more to behold, and greatly must she have felt the estrange- 
ment from her tender mother, and from that pious preceptor 
who had taught her infant mind. To this isolation, at so early 
an age, from home and kindred, may possibly be traced many 
of the faults which became conspicuous in her after-life. 

One prelate only of all her numerous train, Henry, Arch- 
deacon of Winchester, was permitted to continue at the German 
court ; and her affectionate regard for him was testified some 
years after, when she obtained for him, from her husband, a 
grant of the Bishopric of Verdun. 

In 1 1 14, the emperor considering that the education of Ma- 
tilda was completed, assembled a splendid court at Mayence, 
where the royal nuptials were celebrated upon the 7th of Jan- 
uary ; and the young empress was a second time crowned, after 
which she took up her abode with her husband. 

It has been supposed that, when Henry the Fifth was 



MATILDA "THE EMPRESS." .31 

crowned, in 1 1 1 1, at St. Peter's, his betrothed bride shared in 
that solemnity; but it does not seem likely that she should have 
been withdrawn from her studies for that purpose, especially 
as she was not married to him until three years later. 

Henry's character was but little calculated to win the love 
of a young girl like Matilda ; nor could his example have been 
very beneficial. He had been engaged in an unnatural contest 
with his own father, whom he compelled to abdicate, and then 
cast into prison ; and when this unhappy monarch died of grief 
at Liege, his remains were exposed to indignity by his unfeel- 
ing son. After such conduct towards his father, it could hardly 
be expected that Henry would prove a good husband, yet it 
does not appear that the youthful bride had any cause of com- 
plaint against him ; he treated her with the utmost indulgence, 
and her youth and beauty won for her the hearts of the German 
people. 

Brief traces of Matilda's career in Germany have been handed 
down to us. Her marriage was solemnized a second time in 
the year 11 15, and a second time she and the emperor were 
crowned with great pomp in the cathedral of Mayence. A third 
time also were they crowned, and that by the Pontiff himself in 
St. Peter's at Rome, whither the young empress had accom- 
panied her husband. Whilst here she had the satisfaction of 
meeting Ralph, Archbishop of Canterbury, who, by the em- 
peror's desire, paid her a visit of more than a week. 

During her husband's absence from Germany, Matilda main- 
tained a sort of power over the affairs of the Church, of which 
one instance may be cited in the appeal of Witto, a monk, when 
she called a Council of the clergy and nobles, November 4, 11 18, 
and in their presence forbade any person, under severe penalties, 
to disturb Witto again in his monastery, deputing Earl Boniface 
to reconcile the contending parties. 

The excommunication of Henry caused many of his nobles to 
absent themselves from his court when, in 11 19, he returned 
to spend his Christmas at Worms ; but, in a grand Council 
afterwards held in that city, the sentence was repealed, to the 
great joy of the nation. 

During the interval of peace which succeeded, Matilda 
founded and endowed two Benedictine monasteries ; in which 
pious work she was assisted by Gonbold, Bishop of Utrecht, and 
two knights of her household. 

Remorse for his parricidal crime, the horrors of civil war, and 



32 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

his own declining health, had now completely broken the spirit 
of Henry the Fifth, and on July I, 1125, he expired at Utrecht, 
whither he had been accompanied by the empress. During his 
illness he was constantly attended by Matilda, and also by 
several nobles, to one of whom, Duke Frederic of Swabia, he 
committed the care of the empress, and of the imperial insignia, 
until the election of his successor. 

A strange tale was afterwards circulated and believed, that 
the emperor one night, the lights being extinguished and the 
attendants away, had risen from his bed, and, clothing himself 
in coarse woollen garments, had gone forth barefoot and alone 
from the palace, and had never been seen more. Again, it was 
said, that he had become a monk, and ended his days at Angers, 
as a servant in an hospital ; and to add still more charms to the 
romantic tale, it was believed that this being made known to 
Matilda some years after her second marriage, she had hastened 
to him, attended him on his death-bed, and acknowledged him 
as her first husband. 

The Empress Matilda was only in her twenty-first year when 
her husband died, and having left no children, he was succeeded 
in the imperial throne by his nephew Lotharius. Her father, 
therefore, the King of England, having lost his son in the fatal 
White Ship, and having now no hope of male issue by his 
second wife, resolved to recall the widowed empress and 
declare her his successor. 

Matilda did not quit without reluctance a land in which she 
had been a resident during fifteen years, whose manners and 
habits she had adopted, and where she was much beloved. Be- 
sides, Henry the Fifth had left her a rich dower, and this she 
must forego in returning to her native country. She complied, 
however, with her father's wish, and attended not only by a 
splendid tram, which he had deputed to escort her, but also by a 
retinue of German princes and nobles, some of whom were 
aspirants for her hand, joined him and her stepmother in 
Normandy. 

Henry lost no time in convincing the German visitors that 
he had no intention of parting again from his only surviving 
child ; upon which they returned to their homes, while he pro- 
ceeded to England with Matilda, and his consort the young and 
beautiful Adelais. Matilda now for the first time in her life 
enjoyed the happiness of a female friend, and contracted an 
intimacy with her good and amiable stepmother, which termin- 
ated only with their lives. 



MATILDA "THE EMPRESS." 33 

Upon his arrival in England, King Henry assembled all his 
nobles and barons, both Norman and English, at Windsor 
Castle, and there, in the presence of David, King of Scotland, 
presented his daughter to them, calling upon them to take their 
oaths of allegiance to her as his successor to the throne. It 
was not, however, without some difficulty that he effected this, 
for the Normans were unaccustomed to the sovereignty of a 
woman; but the eloquence of Henry' prevailed, their homage 
was paid, and duly recorded in a deed signed and sealed, which 
King David afterwards bore away with him into Scotland ; and, 
with the true zeal of a northern relative, this monarch often 
during the subsequent wars, interposed in support of the claims 
he had seen so firmly ratified. 

A brief period of repose was at this time enjoyed by the 
empress, who dwelt as much as possible in retirement, and in 
the chamber of Queen Adelais, yet we find her name with that of 
the king and queen in a state document, which proves that she 
removed with the court from London to Woodstock, and thence 
to Winchester. 

Before the expiration of a year, King Henry offered the hand 
of his daughter to Geoffrey, the son of the Earl of Anjou, whose 
alliance he sought from political motives. But what were 
Matilda's sentiments? It ill consorted with her proud spirit 
to descend from the imperial dignity to the rank of a simple 
Countess of Anjou ; and she who had been accustomed to look 
up to a husband of graver years, could not stoop to a mere boy 
of fifteen, for such was Geoffrey of Anjou. Besides which, 
although in her first union love could have had no share, her 
heart was now capable of the tender sentiment, and it had been 
deeply impressed by the noble form and manly attractions of 
her cousin Stephen of Blois, although he was then married, and 
that to one of the most deserving of her sex. Matilda, how- 
ever, was allowed to have no choice ; her father had betrothed 
her at five years of age to a man of five-and-forty ; and now* at 
three-and-twenty, she must again take the husband of his choice. 

King Henry fixed that the nuptials of his daughter should 
take place at Mons, in Anjou, where Foulk, the father of the 
bridegroom, awaited the bridal train. The marriage was solemn- 
ized in the church of St. Julian, at Whitsuntide in the year 1128, 
in the presence of the king, and many prelates and barons ; yet 
the English monarch had conducted this affair with so much 
secrecy, that even his own council were unacquainted with it, 



34 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

and expressed their displeasure in not having been consulted. 
It has been said that Henry used some compulsion towards his 
daughter 'to effect this union, and Matilda's behavior would 
confirm this opinion, for she looked with disdain upon her hus- 
band, and he was not slow to resent it. 

As might be expected, this marriage was one of great unhap- 
piness ; and after a long sickness, in which Matilda was sep- 
arated from her husband, she paid a visit to England, where her 
father, in a parliament at Northampton, again caused her to re- 
ceive the homage of the nobles. Two years later, when Matilda 
gave birth to a son, who was named Henry, the king, for the 
third time, called upon his nobility to swear allegiance to her, 
associating now with her name that of her son. In the two 
succeeding years she became also the mother of two other sons. 

Upon his deathbed, Henry bequeathed all his dominions to his 
daughter; but Matilda was at this time in Anjou with her 
huband, and before she could take any steps to secure her in- 
heritance, her cousin Stephen, Earl of Blois, hastily returning 
to England, seized the crown by means of certain false repre- 
sentations, in which he was supported by Hugh Bigod, steward 
of the king's household ; and having gained the suffrages of the 
clergy, procured himself, through their aid, to be crowned king 
on the 22d of December, 1135. 

Thus were the claims of Matilda set aside under the plea that 
her marriage was against the will of the barons, and that a 
female sovereign was contrary to the customs of the English. 
The extraordinary precautions of Henry to secure the crown to 
his daughter were rendered abortive, and within twenty-four 
days after the death of her father, Matilda beheld herself set 
aside from the succession by the very individuals who had thrice 
solemnly sworn to receive her as their queen. Stephen's perjury 
and ingratitude appear the more glaring, for he was indebted 
to her father for many favors, among others that of advancing 
his brother Henry to the see of Winchester ; and while profess- 
ing attachment to the king, and zealously supporting Matilda's 
claims, he had been ingratiating himself with the people merely 
for his own advancement. 

The tranquillity with which the reign of Stephen commenced 
was but of short duration. After the first burst of popular feel- 
ing had subsided, various efforts were made by the friends of 
the empress to assert her just claims. Twice did the King of 
Scotland advance from the Border in support of his niece, and 



MATILDA "THE EMPRESS." 35 

twice was he repulsed by the arms of Stephen. In Wales, also, 
was the cause of Stephen triumphant. Neither in Normandy, 
where Matilda had long resided, had she been able either to 
overcome the repugnance of the people to a female sovereign, 
nor yet to gain their affections. On the death of King Henry, 
they had invited Theobald, the brother of Stephen, to occupy 
the dukedom. 

The following year commenced a' new era in the life of 
Matilda. A staunch advocate and sincere friend appeared to 
assert her rights, in the person of Robert, Earl of Gloucester, 
the illegitimate son of King Henry, who had rendered only a 
conditional homage to Stephen, and whose talents and firmness 
made him an object of dread to this monarch. 

Having preconcerted his plans with the empress, he openly 
espoused her cause, renounced his allegiance to Stephen, and 
soon obtained a strong party in Normandy, while in England 
a still stronger one awaited to join him upon his arrival. The 
empress, attended by her gallant brother and a train of only 
one hundred and forty knights, sailed to Portsmouth, and here 
Earl Robert, supposing Matilda to be in safety, secretly marched 
off with twelve knights to Bristol, in order to organize his 
forces. Matilda advanced to Arundel, as has already been men- 
tioned in the life of her stepmother, Adelais of Louvaine, where 
she was received by her and William di Albini, and whence she 
removed to Bristol, a safe convoy having been granted her by 
Stephen, on the remonstrance of her relations. From Bristol 
she removed to Gloucester, her party daily gaining ground, and 
many, both of the clergy and nobility, joining her. The civil 
war quickly spread throughout the country, each city, and each 
individual, taking part with Matilda, or Stephen, until in the 
desperate strife the barons began to burn and pillage the houses 
of their vassals ; and such, in short, became the general con- 
sternation, that when the inhabitants of a city or town perceived 
a few horsemen at a distance, they immediately took to flight ; 
Matilda and Stephen being equally afraid to restrain these dis- 
orders, lest they should diminish the number of their adherents. 

In 1 141, a battle was fought at Lincoln, in which Stephen 
was defeated and taken prisoner. The Earl of Gloucester 
treated his captive with kindness, but sent him to Matilda, who 
by the advice of her Council confined him in Bristol Castle, and 
loaded him with chains. The barons now unanimously declared 
for the empress, except in the county of Kent, and in London, 



36 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

where Matilda, the wife of Stephen, supported by her son 
Eustace, and William d'Ypres, maintained his cause. The news 
of Stephen's defeat also enabled the Earl of Anjou, without 
much difficulty, to prevail upon the Normans to acknowledge 
Matilda for their queen. 

The next step of the empress was to gain over Stephen's 
brother, the Bishop of Winchester, which she effected by prom- 
ising him the disposal of all church preferment. By him Matilda 
was put in immediate possession of Winchester Castle, with the 
royal treasure, including the sceptre and crown. Possessed of 
these ensigns of royalty, she caused herself to be proclaimed 
queen, and was led in procession to the cathedral by the bishop, 
who, as the pope's legate, walked on her right hand, while the 
Bishop of St. David's, as Primate of Wales, attended on her 
left ; the Bishops of Ely and Bath, and many temporal barons, 
following. The legate then proceeded to absolve the friends 
of Matilda, and to excommunicate her enemies ; and when 
deputies arrived to petition for the liberation of Stephen, it 
was refused by this prelate. 

Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, next swore allegiance 
to Matilda. She now advanced to Wilton, Reading, and Ox- 
ford, and received at the later place the keys of the city and the 
homage of the people. London at last declared for her, and she 
entered with great magnificence. All opposition was now at 
an end. Preparations were commenced for her coronation, and 
she took up her residence at the palace of Westminster. 

But the empress, elated with her prosperity, laid the founda- 
tions of her own downfall ; she treated those who had been her 
enemies with disdain and insolence ; displeased the clergy, and 
offended her friends by her haughtiness, and by the rudeness 
with which she refused their requests. She seemed to think v the 
English a subdued nation upon whom she might trample at 
pleasure. Vain of her own opinion, she even slighted the ad- 
vice of her uncle, David, King of Scotland, who came to visit 
her, and that of her brother, to whom she owed her present 
success. 

When Matilda, the wife of Stephen, wrote to her, interceding 
for her husband's freedom, and engaging that he should re- 
nounce his pretensions to the crown, depart the kingdom, and 
pass the remainder of his life in a monastery, the new queen 
disdainfully rejected these proposals, and forbade the unhappy 
wife to make further application. Thus did the empress create 



MATILDA "THE EMPRESS.'' 37 

enemies, amongst the bitterest of whom was now the Bishop 
of Winchester, who became as earnest in leveling her fortunes 
as he had formerly been anxious to exalt them. 

The citizens of London finding that their queen not only 
refused to mitigate the severity of the Norman laws, but made 
heavy exactions, implored her to moderate her demands. But 
she replied in a transport of rage, with her eyes sparkling, and 
her brows knit, "I understand you; you have given all to my 
enemy, to make him strong against me ; you have conspired for 
.my ruin; yet you expect that I shall spare you !" This greatly- 
exasperated them ; and new plots were formed against her, to 
escape which she hastily fled from the city and took the road 
to Oxford ; her brother and a small party accompanying her. 

From this time Matilda experienced many reverses. She was 
pursued from city to city, and only escaped by a thousand 
manoeuvres. At one time she found herself in danger of perish- 
ing by famine, unless she surrendered to her rival, Queen Ma- 
tilda, who was now triumphant. She resolved, therefore, to 
cut her way through the enemy, and, with a chosen band, among 
whom were her uncle, the King of Scots, and her brother, the 
Earl of Gloucester, set out from Winchester ; she succeeded in 
reaching Ludgershall, and, disguised in man's apparel, pro- 
ceeded thence on horseback to Devizes ; beyond this town the 
road was lined with soldiers, and to elude these, it is said she 
caused herself to be carried to Gloucester in a coffin, which 
escaped their examination. The King of Scotland was also 
thrice taken prisoner, but, not being recognized, he was re- 
deemed by his friends. The Earl of Gloucester, in his generous 
efforts to protect his sister, was discovered and captured, which 
so much affected Matilda that she could scarcely rejoice in her 
own safety. 

The earl endured his captivity with the utmost fortitude, and 
resisted the threats and persuasions of Stephen's wife, to in- 
duce him to desert the fortunes of his sister. At length an ex- 
change of prisoners was proposed, and the earl was liberated 
for Stephen's ransom. Having regained their freedom, the two 
leaders prepared to renew hostilities. Matilda consulted her 
friends, and the Earl of Gloucester was dismissed to procure aid 
from the Earl of Anjou, but returned with only a few troops, 
accompanied by Henry, the eldest son of Matilda, then scarcely 
nine years of age. 

In the absence of her faithful adherent, the earl, the empress 



38 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

was exposed to new dangers and hardships. She had retired to 
Oxford for security, as that city, surrounded by waters and 
well fortified, was then considered impregnable. Stephen as- 
saulted the town, set fire to it, and confined Matilda in the castle, 
hoping to get her into his power ; but her courage and energy 
were not easily subdued. At the end of two months, however, 
and in the commencement of winter, she was reduced to the 
utmost distress for want of provisions ; and finding herself com- 
pelled to capitulate, she temporized by asking terms which she 
knew Stephen would not grant, and in the meantime took ad-^ 
vantage of the darkness, when the ground was covered with 
snow, to sally fcrth at midnight, on foot. She deceived the 
sentinels, by means of a white dress, and, attended only by three 
trusty knights, also habited in white, passed the Thames on the 
ice, and walked six miles with the snow beating in her face, to 
the town of Abingdon, where she mounted a horse and pro- 
ceeded the same night to Wallingford. Here she was joined by 
the Earl of Gloucester and her son, in whose society she seemed 
for a while to lose remembrance of her misfortunes and suffer- 
ings. 

For three years longer England was distracted by this civil 
warfare. Many extraordinary changes of fortune were experi- 
enced on both sides. Maltida recovered nearly half the king- 
dom, and again lost it. The young prince returned into Anjou 
to his father ; and the death of her best friend and champion 
the Earl of Gloucester, in 1146, added to other losses equally 
irreparable, disposed Matilda, whose masculine spirit could no 
longer endure such incessant fatigue, danger, and reverses, to 
abandon the scene of her hopes and ambition, and with them a 
crown so frequently assured to her, and which she had once 
held in her grasp. Accordingly, four months after her brother's 
death, she passed over into Normandy to rejoin her husband, 
who received her kindly. Matilda consoled herself for her many 
misfortunes with the hope that her son would one day avenge 
her wrongs and recover his inheritance. These hopes were real- 
ized in the person of Henry the Second, who became the suc- 
cessor of Stephen, and who justly evinced for his mother the 
utmost filial affection and respect. 

The Empress Matilda died of a painful and lingering disor- 
der at the age of sixty-five on the 10th of September, 1167, at 
the Abbey of Notre Dame des Pres, near Rouen. To this city, to 
which she was greatly attached, she had been a munificent bene- 



MATILDA "THE EMPRESS." 39 

factress, and had built there a stone bridge over the Seine, 
esteemed one of the finest of that period. The last years of her 
life were spent in acts of charity and benevolence. The bounty 
she exhibited in her charitable donations exceeded that of any 
reigning monarch of the Christian world. At her death she 
bequeathed considerable sums to indigent and diseased persons, 
as well as to convents and churches, which sums were honorably 
paid by her son, who repaired to Rouen to behold her remains 
deposited, agreeably to- her wish, in the Abbey of Bee. King 
Henry erected to her memory a monument covered with plates 
of silver, which bore a Latin inscription, thus rendered in 
English : 

"By father much, spouse more, but son most blest, 
Here Henry's mother, daughter, wife doth rest." 

Arnulph, Bishop of Lisieux, who wrote the life of the 
empress, after speaking of her as a royal wife, mother, and 
daughter, says, that "glittering still more by the splendid light 
of her virtues she surpasses the good fortune both of birth and 
marriage." 



MATILDA OF BOULOGNE, 

THE WIFE OF STEPHEN. 

The reign of the usurper Stephen was a period of continual 
agitation ; his authority, founded only on the right of conquest, 
was unstable and insecure, and rebellion, strife and warfare 
fill the annals of his history. Even his queen, who by her gen- 
tleness and virtues gained the love and esteem of all around 
her, and, like her noble relative and prototype, Matilda, queen 
of Henry I., obtained the title of "the Good," found not the 
peace she so eminently deserved, and enjoyed no permanent 
conjugal felicity. 

The ancestors of Matilda of Boulogne were all illustrious. 
Eustace of Boulogne, her grandfather, served under William 
the Conquerer at the battle of Hastings, and his three sons 
shared the honors of the first Crusade. The conquest of the 
Holy City was effected under the direction of Godfrey, the 
eldest, who was regarded as the best soldier and the most 
virtuous gentleman of his age. He was chosen King of Jeru- 
salem, and his brother Baldwin succeeded him. Eustace, the 
third brother, returned to Boulogne, and inherited that earl- 
dom. He married Mary, the daughter of Malcolm III., King 
of Scotland, a younger sister of Matilda, queen of Henry I. 

The only offspring of Eustace and Mary was a daughter, 
Matilda, who, after the death of her father, inherited all his 
possessions abroad, as well as his rich estates in Essex. The 
English monarch, desirous of securing so much property in his 
own family, betrothed the fair Matilda to Stephen, fourth son 
of Adela, daughter of William the Conqueror, his own favorite 
nephew, who thus, in right of his wife, became Earl of Bou- 
logne. 

Little did Henry foresee that by this act he raised a fearful 
competitor for the throne in the bosom of his family. After 
the death of Henry and his sons, we find the two Matildas, 

40 



MATILDA OF BOULOGNE. 41 

sisters' children, and first cousins, opposing each other in civil 
warfare in a struggle for regal power. 

Very different in character, however, were those two noble 
princesses. The fierce, unbending, haughty temper of the 
Norman kings was developed in that of Matilda, the empress, 
while the more gentle and domestic virtues of the Saxon-de- 
scended queen won the homage of all without seeming to 
court it. 

Of the mother of Queen Matilda, the Countess of Boulogne, 
but little is recorded. In the year 11 15, after the nuptials of 
her daughter, she visited England, and while there was sud- 
denly taken ill and died in the Abbey of Bermondsey, to which 
she had been a great benefactress. The Latin verses on her 
tomb allude to her painful death and attest her noble character. 

King Henry presented his nephew Stephen, on his marriage, 
with a fortress in London, called the Tower-Royal, where he 
resided for some time with his young wife, and during their 
early union they became much endeared to the Londoners. 
Matilda, from the universal respect with which her father and 
uncles were regarded by the Christian world, was thought to 
have conferred great honor upon her husband by her alliance 
with the royal blood of England and Scotland ; and Stephen, 
who possessed great talents, a handsome person, and affable 
manners, while he rejoiced in the affections of his countess, 
obtained great popularity with the nation. Many instances, 
however of Stephen's infidelity have been recorded, which 
prove that this seemingly happy period had its trials for Ma- 
tilda ; among other rumors of this kind was that of the passion 
entertained by the haughty empress for her husband, which 
has been before alluded to. Another grief, too, had Matilda 
from the loss of her first two children in their infancy. They 
were both interred in the Priory of the Holy Trinity, Aldgate- 
without, and Matilda afterwards founded and endowed the 
Church and Hospital of St. Katherine by the Tower, in order 
that prayers should be offered there for their departed spirits. 
But these fond maternal regrets were stayed by the stirring 
events which ensued upon King Henry's death, and in which 
Matilda was compelled to take an active part. 

Stephen had been one of the foremost in the train of nobles 
who had sworn fealty to the empress, but when her father was 
no more, he was the first to desert her ; and if this princess 
really indulged a tender passion for him, bitter must have been 



42 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

her punishment in discovering that he aspired to wear her 
crown, and even to lead the nation against her. 

Assisted by his friend, Hugh Bigod, steward of the royal 
household, Stephen made it appear that Henry had disinherited 
his daughter, and appointed himself to succeed to the throne. 
The nation was deceived, and his coronation took place on the 
26th of December, 1 135. Matilda, his consort, was at this 
time at Boulogne, where she gave birth to a son, named Eustace. 
Three months after she rejoined her husband, and was crowned 
at Westminster, upon Easter day, the 226. of March, 1136. 

We have but few details of a pacific character touching the 
life of Queen Matilda. We learn, however, that she was pres- 
ent at the dedication of Godstone Nunnery, and also that she 
became the patroness of the Knights Templars on their arrival 
in England. 

No sooner was Stephen seated on the throne than David, 
King of Scotland, made war upon him, in support of the claims 
of the empress. Matilda, the queen, who was niece to the Scot- 
tish king, anxiously desired to establish peace between him and 
Stephen, and. through her mediation this was effected; in 
commemoration of which the festivities of the following Eas- 
ter were unusually splendid. But the sudden illness of the 
king, which threatened his life, caused great alarm to his 
affectionate consort. A report of his death being circulated in 
Normandy caused a party to be raised in that province in faior 
of the empress, and Stephen, on his convalescence, hastened 
thither to obtain the acknowledgment of his infant son as heir 
to the throne. 

During his absence the queen, who was left at the head of 
affairs in England, was assailed with troubles on every side ; the 
conflagration of towns and many churches, including the ca- 
thedrals of Rochester and York ; new plots raised by the friends 
of Matilda the empress, and another invasion from Scotland. 
The queen was unable to repel her northern enemies, being 
obliged to appear in person at the siege of Dover, where the 
castle had been taken ; but Stephen returned to her aid, and 
was everywhere triumphant. A third inroad of the Scottish 
monarch was followed by the memorable "battle of the Stand- 
ard," after which it was with much difficulty, and only after 
accomplishing a journey to Durham, that the queen prevailed 
on her husband to make peace once more with her northern 
relative. It is stated also by some chroniclers that Queen Ma- 



MATILDA OF BOULOGNE. 43 

tilda even joined with Adelais in obtaining from Stephen a 
safe conduct for the Empress Matilda to Bristol, when she was 
besieged by him in Arundel Castle. Indeed, in every case 
Queen Matilda appears in the character of a noble and generous 
intercessor. 

Whilst the Earl of Gloucester, the empress's half-brother, 
was contesting with Stephen his sister's right to the crown, 
in one fierce battle after another, Matilda the queen was in 
France, negotiating a marriage for her son ; and during her 
absence it was that Stephen, hitherto successful, was destined 
to experience a reverse of fortune. He was defeated in the 
battle of Lincoln, taken prisoner, and confined in Bristol Cas- 
tle ; his brother, Henry of Blois, having joined his enemies. 
At this crisis of affairs Matilda returned from France, and the 
first step she took was to obtain the interference of the citizens 
of London for her husband's liberation. But the appeal of the 
good citizens, with whom Stephen and his queen had ever been 
very popular, was ineffectual. She then addressed a letter to 
the synod, but in vain. She urgently petitioned the haughty 
empress, and implored her to grant her husband's freedom. 
The plea of affection in distress ever prevails with the high- 
minded and generous spirit, but the daughter of Matilda "the 
Good," had not the sympathies of her departed parent, and she 
rudely repulsed the unhappy queen. 

Matilda now no longer hoped for the clemency of the em- 
press, but acting with the vigor and prudence which so often 
characterized her conduct, she courageously ordered her troops 
to pass the Thames, and lay waste the country. The people of 
London were induced to return to the allegiance of Stephen 
through her persuasions, for she had gained their affections 
by her mild virtues — virtues which even her enemies were 
compelled to respect, and by a courage which misfortune could 
not subdue ; whilst the empress, who had become unpopular 
from the tyranny of her disposition, was deserted by her party, 
and hastily withdrawing, abandoned a crown at the very mo- 
ment it was about being secured to her. The wife of the cap- 
tive king entered London, and fortune again seemed to smile 
upon him. His son, Prince Eustace, now joined his mother 
with some foreign troops, and thus assisted, Matilda raised a 
new army of two thousand men and gave the command to 
William d'Ypres. The queen and her son led on these forces 
to Winchester, and thence the empress fled, as has been al- 



44 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

ready related, and her brother, the Earl of Gloucester, was 
taken captive. He was treated with great generosity by the 
queen, who, however, refused to ransom him on any other 
terms than that of exchange for her husband, which condition 
was at length agreed to in November, 1141. 

For three years longer the struggle lasted, and then, in 1147, 
having the misfortune to lose her faithful adherent, the Earl 
of Gloucester, the empress finally withdrew to Normandy. 

Stephen and Matilda celebrated the following Christmas, 
1 147, at Lincoln, with unusual splendor, on account of the de- 
parture of the empress and the restoration of peace. 

The public life of Matilda ends here. Her husband was again 
at liberty, again a king; her son the apparent successor to his 
dominions. The remainder of her days was devoted to acts 
of benificence, so numerous as to obtain for her the enviable 
title of "the Good." In 1148 she completed her long-cherished 
plan of building the Hospital and Church of St. Katherine, 
instituted in memory of her deceased children ; and in the same 
year, jointly with her husband, founded the royal abbey of 
Feversham, in Kent. 

Matilda died of a fever at Hedingham Castle, in Essex, on the 
3rd day of May, 1151. Her children, besides the two who died 
in infancy, were, Eustace and William, Earl of Boulogne, and 
one daughter, Mary, Abbess of Romsey. She was fortunate 
in not surviving to behold her posterity deprived of the crown, 
and her husband consenting to the succession of the son of her 
rival, the empress. 

The loss of his beloved consort, followed soon after by that 
of his favorite son, Eustace, so deeply affected Stephen that 
he survived little more than three years. He was interred in 
Feversham Abbey, by the side of his wife and son. The fol- 
lowing lines were inscribed on the tomb of the queen : 

"The year one thousand one hundred and fifty-one deprived 
us of Matilda, the happy wife of King Stephen ; it saw her 
death and her monument. She not only worshiped God, but 
relieved the poor. Angels held out their hands to receive this 
queen, for deep was her humility, though great her worth." 



ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE, 

THE WIFE OF KING HENRY THE SECOND. 

Eleanor of Aouitaine was the eldest daughter of William, 
tenth Duke of Guienne, and Count of Poitou, and of Alienor or 
Eleanor, of Chatelherault. When Eleanor was but ten years 
old, her father died in the Holy Land, and from this circum- 
stance, as well as from being a prince of great piety, he was 
called by his subjects St. William. His father, then living, 
was William, ninth Duke of Aquitaine, the most distinguished 
of the troubadours, and one of the most elegant scholars of the 
age. 

The father of Eleanor left no son, and she, being the eldest of 
his two daughters, became heir to the noble possessions of her 
grandfather, consisting of Guienne and Gascony, Poitou, Bis-' 
cay and other territories, from the mouth of the Loire to the foot 
of the Pyrenees. Her grandfather, at this time approaching 
seventy, took the singular resolution of abdicating in favor of 
his granddaughter, then in the fourteenth year of her age, and 
of passing the remainder of his days in penitence and seclusion 
as an atonement for the crimes and sins of his youth. Having 
made the conditions of his abdication agreeable to the lords of 
Aquitaine, the duke further proposed that his granddaughter 
should be united in marriage to Louis le Jeune, son of Louis le 
Gros, to which also the barons agreed. Accordingly the mar- 
riage was solemnized with great pomp at Bourdeaux, in 1137, 
and the same day Duke William, laying down his insignia of 
sovereignty in favor of his granddaughter, assumed the weeds 
of the penitent, and departed on a pilgrimage to St. James of 
Compostella, in Spain, where he died soon afterwards. 

By this marriage the north and south of France were united 
under one sovereignty ; and, as if fortune would complete the 
auspicious event, scarcely were the nuptial festivities over when 
the young couple were summoned to the deathbed of King 

45 



4.6 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Louis VI., and the undivided sway of France was thus at once 
consigned to their hands. 

The young Louis was eighteen ; handsome, and of a noble 
figure ; amiable and gentle in manners, but at the same time of 
a grave and severe turn of mind. Eleanor was extremely beau- 
tiful. Born and educated in a country proverbial for its poetry 
and romance, she inherited its genius, and distinguished her- 
self as one of its best troubadour poets ; nature indeed seemed 
to have lavished her favors upon her. Matthew of Paris says 
she was indicated in the prophecies of the famous Merlin, 
under the name of an Eagle ; firstly, because having been queen 
of France and England, she bad extended her wings over two 
kingdoms ; secondly, because she ravished by her extreme 
beauty, the hearts of all who beheld her. 

Charmed with his beautiful bride, Louis seemed to have 
reached the summit of human wishes, while Eleanor, secure in 
the return of his affection, loved her husband with sincerity. 
Thus, for a brief period, their happiness seemed complete. 
Austere, however, as was the rule of the young king's life, 
Eleanor had the power of influencing him for evil, as is proved 
by the following instance, the only act of wilful injustice with 
which history charges him. 

The Count of Vermandois, having fallen in love with the fas- 
cinating Petronilla, the queen's sister, repudiated his wife, the 
sister of the Count of Champagne, in order that he might marry 
her. The Count of Champagne appealed to the pope, who 
commanded that Petronilla should be put away, and the sister 
of Champagne taken back by her husband. But Eleanor, who 
had connived at the marriage of Petronilla, would not consent 
to this, and instigated the king to punish the Count of Cham- 
pagne for having interfered in the matter. Louis accordingly 
invaded Champagne with a large army, and carried on a most 
destructive war. The town of Vitry was stormed, the cathe- 
dral set fire to, and no less than thirteen hundred persons, who 
had taken refuge within its walls, were burned to death. 

At this time Bernard, the Abbe of Chevaux, preached a cru- 
sade at Vezelai, in Burgundy, with such fervor and eloquence 
that he won all who heard him. Among the thousands who 
thronged to listen to him were the king and queen, attended 
by their court. In the course of his address, Bernard spoke 
so powerfully of the sufferings of the people of Vitry, that the 
king, penetrated with remorse, vowed to atone for his crimes 



ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE. 47 

by assuming the cross ; and Eleanor, equally guilty and even 
more impulsive than her husband, determined to accompany 
him, as sovereign of Aquitaine, for the honor of God and the 
peace of her own soul. 

Louis received the cross upon his knees from the hands of 
St. Bernard, and -his nobles followed his example. It is prob- 
able that the love of novelty and romantic adventure, which 
would have great fascination for a poetic nature like Eleanor's, 
influenced her as much in this sudden show of devotion as 
affection for Louis, or even, the penitence which she professed. 
Nor does it appear that Louis was adverse to her wishes ; on 
the contrary, it is supposed that he feared leaving her behind 
him in France, where she must have been placed at the head 
of the government, which, with his knowledge of her volatile 
and ambitious character, he knew would be a dangerous ex- 
periment. However that might be, it was unfortunate for the 
success of the crusade that Eleanor and her ladies enlisted un- 
der its banners. 

In vain the wise Suger, the able minister of Louis, used his 
utmost endeavors to induce his master to give up this mad 
enterprise ; in vain was it that great dissatisfaction prevailed 
throughout France in consequence of the heavy taxes which 
were levied on account of it. Louis was steadfast in what he 
believed to be his religious duty, and the romantic fanaticism 
which seized on the queen and her court spread like wildfire 
through the country. Thousands of young nobles joined the 
crusade for the sake of their fair ladies, who had sent their 
distaffs to such as appeared lukewarm, compelling them through 
shame to join in the wild undertaking. Even wits and poets 
enlisted in the crusade to amuse the nobles and to relieve the 
fatigues of the journey, as well as to immortalize in song the 
warriors and fair ones who gave so distinguished a character 
to this expedition. Some women entered these lists from curi- 
osity ; others from religious motives ; some accompanied their 
husbands ; and others, young maidens, followed their lovers 
to the Holy Land. These female crusaders were armed and 
accoutred like Amazons, and being mounted on horseback, 
composed a squadron which styled itself Queen Eleanor's 
Guard. 

At length, on the nth of June, 1147, Louis set forth with 
his vast multitude of followers, amounting to 200,000 persons, 
intending to follow the Emperor Conrad, who, roused also by 



4 8 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the preaching of St. Bernard, had landed in France with a 
large army. The French army traversed Germany, Bohemia 
and Hungary, the greatest disorder prevailing among them. 
With so vast a number of women it was impossible to preserve 
strict discipline ; money and provisions also failing, the wants 
of the many were supplied by means of rapine and plunder, 
which irritating against them the inhabitants of the countries 
through which they passed, they were regarded rather as rob- 
bers or banditti, whom it was meritorious to destroy, than as 
soldiers of a faith which was common to all. Thus their num- 
bers were greatly diminished by the time they reached Con- 
stantinople. 

At Constantinople they were received by Manuel Comnenus 
with apparent kindness, but with the concealed hatred of an 
enemy. He had already behaved with the greatest treachery 
towards the Emperor Conrad and his followers, and he now 
meditated the ruin of the French. Between Constantinople 
and Antioch numberless* were the difficulties and misfortunes 
encountered by Louis and his followers, the crowning of which 
was the signal defeat they experienced in the neighborhood of 
Laodicea, where, so great was the number of the French either 
killed or taken prisoners, that out of 30,000 men it is said only 
7,000 remained. 

Louis displayed in this desperate encounter the utmost cour- 
age, and fought with desperation until forced from the spot 
where he had beheld many of his most valiant knights expire. 
He was led by his servants to a rock, where they hoped to find 
safety for {he night, but they were discovered and dispersed, 
the king only escaping by climbing a tree. There he defended 
himself by cleaving the heads, hands or arms of his enemies 
as they attempted to ascend the tree, until dispersed and dis- 
couraged, and ignorant of his quality, they at length left him. 
He remained in this situation the greater part of the night, 
when some of his own party, informed of. his danger, hastened 
to meet him. The alarm of the queen and her ladies was re- 
lieved by the king's arrival, yet the utmost consternation pre- 
vailed in the camp, not only from the loss of such great num- 
bers of their friends, but for the want of provisions, their stores 
having been carried off by the enemy whilst they had yet twelve 
days' marching before them. 

At length thev reached # Attalia, whence Louis and his queen 
with their nobility embarked for Antioch, leavingthe infantry 




' ■ /■ ■ 

quern, of ' Bemy -2" a 



ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE. 49 

to await other transports. They, however, impatient to join 
their monarch, proceeding forward by land, encountered so 
many fresh difficulties that but few of the number were left. 

When Louis arrived at Antioch with his queen and her es- 
cort of ladies, he was received by Raymond of Poitou, the 
reigning monarch, and uncle of Eleanor, with every possible 
mark of respect and joy. He loaded the king with presents, 
and sought by every means in his power to ingratiate himself 
with the young queen, his niece. From this moment com- 
menced that jealousy of his wife in the breast of Louis and 
those bitter misunderstandings between them which finally 
ended in divorce. Raymond of Poitou, though the uncle of 
Eleanor, was still a handsome man of attractive manners ; and 
so completely did she give herself up to the fascinations of his 
society that Louis, in a fit of rage and jealousy, suddenly car- 
ried her off one night to Jerusalem. 

Whatever might have been the religious ardor which in- 
duced Eleanor to commence this crusade, it was wholly cooled 
by the time she reached the Holy City, and no sentiment re- 
mained in her heart but resentment against her husband for 
what she considered his unjustifiable severity. Louis lingered 
in Palestine, desirous of rendering some service to the Chris- 
tian cause; but the Crusade terminated unfortunately, and the 
king returned to France, in compliance with the earnest wish 
of his minister, to defeat the cabal of the Count of Dreux, his 
brother, in the autumn of 1149. 

Various statements have been made by historians concerning 
the conduct of Queen Eleanor whilst in Palestine. While one 
author accuses her of intriguing with her uncle, another speaks 
of her levity with a young Turkish emir named Saladin ; others 
again narrate a romantic history in which the celebrated Sala- 
din himself figures as the object of the king's jealousy, and the 
Archbishop of Tyre intimates in general terms that the queen, 
whilst at Antioch, forgot by her irregularities the respect due 
to her rank and the king her husband. Nothing, however, was 
proved against her honor; nevertheless Louis retained his sus- 
picions, and returned home resolved on obtaining a divorce. 
From this his prudent minister Segur seems to have dissuaded 
him, from the consideration that the restoration of her mag- 
nificent dower was undesirable, as well as that it would be 
detrimental to the interests of their daughter, the Princess 
Mary. 



50 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

On their return to Paris, Queen Eleanor remained in that 
capital, closely watched by her husband, whom she regarded 
with aversion. She now perceived faults in his character, while 
his sincere devotion and austerity of manners and appearance 
excited her contempt. She was even heard to exclaim that she 
had married a monk and not a king. 

At this unhappy period Geoffrey Plantagenet, Count of An- 
jou and husband to the Empress Matilda, appeared at the court 
of Louis, to do homage for Normandy, bringing with him his 
son Henry, now but seventeen years of age. Geoffrey was 
reckoned one of the handsomest and most accomplished knights 
of the age, and Eleanor bestowed so much attention upon him 
as to excite much scandal. 

About a year and a half after this, her first acquaintance 
with the Counts of Anjou, father and son, Eleanor gave birth 
to a second daughter, called Alice ; and not long afterwards, 
Geoffrey, Count of Anjou, being dead, the son, now grown to 
a handsome young man, the fame of whose learning and brav- 
ery had extended beyond Anjou, again presented himself at 
the French court to do homage for his dominions. 

It was an easy thing for Queen Eleanor to transfer her fickle 
fancy from the dead father to the living son, and scandal 
busied itself with a new love story. Whatever King Louis 
might think about a divorce, Eleanor was now determined to 
obtain one, and accordingly applied for it on the plea of her 
too near consanguinity with her husband. The king, well 
pleased, no doubt, to obtain a divorce on any terms, and caring 
nothing for Segur's argument about the ample dower, joined 
heartily in the application, and the divorce was accordingly 
granted, on the idle plea of consanguinity, in March, 1152, not 
quite four years after the setting forth of the ill-starred cru- 
sade. 

x\fter sixteen years of wedlock, therefore, Eleanor removed 
from the capital and the court of Louis, in the full and firm 
possession of all those noble territories which, by her mar- 
riage, she had annexed to the crown of France* Wealthy as 
she was, the king in parting with her is said to have remarked 
that "her conduct had made her so infamous that the poorest 
gentleman in his kingdom would not desire to have her for his 
wife !" But whatever Louis knew of morals, he certainly knew 
little of human nature. Eleanor, now about thirty, still re- 
tained great beauty, and with all her wealthy inheritance as 



ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE. 51 

Duchess of Aquitaine. several princes immediatelly sought her 
alliance. 

Returning to her native country, her adventures were strange 
enough for any heroine of romance ; several plans were laid to 
carry her off, and even in one instance by Geoffrey, the brother 
of the very man for whose sake she was now free, and to whom 
she had promised marriage before her divorce was obtained. 

Six weeks after leaving Paris, Eleanor gave her hand to 
Henry Plantagenet, Count of Anjou. The nuptials were cele- 
brated with extraordinary magnificence at Bourdeaux in the 
year 1152, after which Henry took his bride into Normandy. 
This marriage greatly annoyed Louis, who even at one time 
thought of forbidding it, on the plea that the Count of Anjou 
could not marry without the consent of him, his feudal lord. 
He, however, in this spirit of animosity, entered into a league 
with King Stephen, and, in consequence, Henry was obliged 
not very long after bis marriage, yet, nevertheless, after the 
birth of their first child, to hasten into England in defense of 
his inheritance there. 

Whilst in England, the young Henry, who perhaps was only 
imitating his wife's example during her first marriage, renewed 
his acquaintance with, and even, by some, is supposed to have 
married that fair Rosamond Clifford, whose story, as related 
by the . old ballad writers, has left the character of Queen 
Eleanor some shades darker than history, the grave and more 
accurate sister of poetry, has proved it to be. Henry, it is said, 
first saw arid fell in love with the fair Rosamond in his early 
youth, when he was in England, and received knighthood from 
his uncle, the King of Scotland ; and it is probable that at that 
time some form of betrothal or marriage took place between 
them, for it is difficult to conceive how, on the occasion of his 
second visit to England, his marriage with Eleanor should not 
be known to Rosamond, if, as some suppose, the marriage took 
place at this time between himself and her. But that the vir- 
tuous daughter of the Cliffords believed herself, at this period 
and even till the queen's discovery of her at Woodstock, to be 
Henry's lawful wife, there can be no doubt; and Henry him- 
self appears to have regarded her as such, for many years after- 
ward, when the dissensions with the princes, his sons, had 
greatly embittered his life, he is -recorded to have exclaimed 
to one of the sons of Rosamond, "Thou art my legitimate son, 
and the rest are bastards." The son to whom were addressed 



$2 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

these words of wounded affection on the one hand, and paternal 
pride on the other, was William Long Espee, the eldest son of 
Rosamond, whose birth took place before Henry returned to 
Eleanor in Normandy. 

Soon after his return, the death of Stephen summoned him 
to England as its undisputed sovereign ; and accompanied by 
his wife and son, he went thither in the month of December, 
1 1 54, and on the 19th of the same month he and Eleanor were 
crowned in Westminster Abbey. This coronation was one of 
unparalleled magnificence. Eleanor, who had naturally a taste 
for elegance and splendor, which had been greatly increased 
by her journey into the East, whence she had brought articles 
of luxury and magnificence hitherto unknown in the western 
parts of Europe, indulged, on this occasion, this taste to the 
utmost, and astonished her new subjects by all her Oriental 
splendor. The coronation robes of the ecclesiastics were now 
for the first time composed of silk and velvet embroidered with 
gold. Henry wore a short Angevin cloak, which obtained for 
him the surname of Court Mantle, and the form of the coro- 
nation robes as worn by him is continued to the present time. 

The Christmas festivities were held with great pomp at 
Westminster palace, but immediately after the coronation, 
Eleanor removed to the palace at Bermondsey, where, in the 
following February, she gave birth to her second son. In a 
commercial point of view, Henry's union with the Princess of 
Aquitaine was advantageous to the country. The wines of 
Gascony were now for the first time introduced, and large for- 
tunes were made by the merchants who imported them, although 
some of the rigid old chroniclers complain of the increase of 
drunkenness in consequence of the cheapness of these wines. 

Henry, as the direct descendant of the beloved old Saxon 
monarchs, was regarded with affection by the English people, 
and at a great assembly of the nobles in the following March, 
the barons kissed the hands of his children, who were present 
with the queen, and swore to acknowledge them as the heirs 
of the English crown, as the rightful descendants of Alfred 
and Edward the Confessor. A few weeks afterwards William, 
the eldest of these children, died, and was buried by his great- 
grandfather, Henry I., at Reading. 

The queen, as was natural, indulged in her new kingdom her 
native love for poetry and dramatic representation. Mysteries 
and miracle plays were acted before her, and many records yet 



ELEANOR OF AOUITAINE. 53 

remain of the gay festivity she kept up at her various palaces 
of Westminster, Winchester and Woodstock. It was at the 
favorite summer palace of Woodstock that the beloved Rosa- 
mond was concealed, and here, in the second year of her con- 
nection with the king, had she given birth to her second son. 
As regarded Rosamond, two things were impossible to Henry, 
either to keep his marriage with the queen from her knowledge, 
or to keep her much longer from the knowledge of the queen. 
Rosamond lived in a bower or secret chamber, as tradition has 
it, at some little distance from the palace in the center of a 
labyrinth or thicket. Of course, Eleanor's jealousy and sus- 
picion once roused, would not rest until the secret was discov- 
ered ; and the mode of its discovery, tradition and the old bal- 
lads, which always have their origin in truth, tell us, was by 
means of a clue of silk, which had attached itself to Henry's 
spur on leaving Rosamond's bower, and which, being traced 
backwards by the queen, into whose chamber Henry had 
unconsciously brought it, led her into the very presence of her 
rival. Eleanor, however, was less vindictive than tradition 
avers ; she neither stabbed Rosamond to the heart, nor yet com- 
pelled her to drain "a cup of poison strong." This, however, 
she did, there is no doubt— she insisted, very naturally, on the 
removal of so dangerous a rival ; and Rosamond, in the relig- 
ious spirit of her age, voluntarily entered the nunnery at God- 
stow, leaving her two sons to the care of King Henry, who, 
though it does not appear that he concerned himself further as 
to their mother, always showed the affections of a parent to- 
wards them. Rosamond died twenty years afterwards at God- 
stow, where her life of penitence and prayer had won for her 
the respect almost of a saint. 

In the year 11 56 Eleanor gave birth to her eldest daughter, 
the Princess Matilda, and in September of the following 
year, at Oxford, to Richard, afterwards called Cceur de Lion. 
In 1 1 59 Henry and Eleanor were again crowned at Worcester, 
and the September following was born another son called 
Geoffrey Plantagenet, who the same year was betrothed to 
Constance the Princess of Bretagne, at that time under two 
years old. Henry had unjustly seized upon Bretagne, and now 
wished to conciliate the offended people by marrying the in- 
fant duchess to his son. He also revived the claims of his wife 
to the earldom of Thoulouse, but in this was opposed by Louis 
of France, who, in aid of Raymond, Earl of Thoulouse, threw 



54 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

himself into the city just as the English monarch approached 
it with his forces ; and whilst Henry was thus employed, Eleanor 
acted as queen regent in England. 

In 1160 Eleanor went over to Normandy to her husband, 
taking with her her son, Prince Henry, and her daughter, in 
consequence of a marriage being proposed between Marguerite, 
the daughter of her former husband, Louis VII., by his second 
wife, Alice of Champagne, and her young son Henry. This 
marriage having been contracted, the young couple were placed 
under the care of Chancellor a Becket, afterwards the cele- 
brated Archbishop of Canterbury, to whom their education was 
entrusted. Nor could a better choice have been made ; the 
children were singularly happy, and the attachment which he 
inspired in their youthful breasts towards him ended only with 
their lives. Nor was this the only marriage between these two 
families, the last families under ordinary circumstances who 
might have been expected to seek each other's alliance. A 
dispute having arisen between the two royal fathers respecting 
the dower of the young Marguerite, it was settled by a second 
family union. The King of France had yet another daughter, 
the Princess Alice, and the King of England had yet another 
son, Prince Richard ; therefore these two were affianced, Prince 
Richard being four years old and the young bride three, the 
age at which, two years before, her sister Marguerite had been 
contracted in marriage to Prince Henry ; and to make the union 
still more agreeable to the King of England, the little princess 
was placed in his hands, to be brought up under his charge. 
Unhappy was this alliance, most mischievous the confidence 
that was placed in the king. In the person of the young prin- 
cess an element of after discord, guilt and misery was intro- 
duced into the royal house. 

The eldest daughter of Queen Eleanor, by the King of 
France, was married to the Count of Champagne, and her sec- 
ond daughter, three years later, to the Count of Blois, who 
was made by Louis high seneschal of France, an office which 
Henry of England claimed as his right as Count of Anjou, 
and which, being given to another, he made into a cause of 
quarrel. 

At this time Henry's troubles were at their height with 
Thomas a Becket, his former beloved friend and prime minis- 
ter. Becket, much against his will — and, as he foretold, to the 
ruin of his friendship with his royal master — was made, solely 



ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE. 55 

to gratify the king, Archbishop of Canterbury ; and hence, dur- 
ing seven long years, raged that deadly feud which only ended 
in the murder of Becket and the king's abject contrition. 

On occasion of the quarrel with Louis respecting the sene- 
schalship of France, .Henry's mother, the aged Empress Ma- 
tilda, came forward as mediator, by order of Pope Alexander, 
to whom she had written on the subject; she also received the 
pontiff's commands to act as mediator in the great church feud 
between her son and a Becket ; but death put an end to her en- 
deavors, and that at a time when Henry was busied in taking- 
possession of Bretagne on behalf of the infant Duchess Con- 
stance, the betrothed bride of his young son Geoffrey. 

In 1166 Eleanor, who had resided latterly at Woodstock, 
gave birth to Prince John, and the following year, having been 
placed by her husband as regent in Normandy, the people re- 
volted, and Henry was obliged to hasten to her aid. But if the 
people of Normandy revolted because Eleanor was placed over 
them, her native country of Aquitaine did the same because 
they were no longer gladdened by her presence. Henry, there- 
fore, as the best means of pacification, established his queen 
as regent at Bourdeaux, together with her favorite son, Rich- 
ard. It was fortunate for Henry that, with all his various 
scattered territories, he had a wife capable of governing with 
wisdom equal to his own./ Indeed, from 11 57 to 1172, Eleanor 
takes a prominent place in history as an able sovereign, either 
in her own possessions, or as regent in England during the 
absence of the king. Hitherto, however, she had maintained 
her sway in perfect concord with her husband, but from this 
period a much less amicable relationship existed between them. 

Whilst Eleanor and her son Richard remained happily at 
Bourdeaux, Henry and his son, Prince Henry, returned to 
England, which was now agitated by the dispute with a Becket. 
Prince Henry, who, as has been said, had been brought up, to- 
gether with his young bride, under the care of a Becket, re- 
tained for him still the strongest affection, and seemed likely 
enough to become a dangerous partisan on his side against his 
father. To prevent so undesirable an event, Henry took the 
singular resolve of associating him with himself on the throne, 
to which, of course, the young prince could have no objection ; 
and preparations were accordingly made for his coronation, his 
bride, the youthful Marguerite of France, who was now under 
the charge of Queen Eleanor in Aquitaine, being sent for, that 



56 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

she, also, might be crowned queen. Marguerite, however, 
learning that her beloved friend and guardian, a Becket, was 
not to officiate at the august ceremony, refused to come, and 
therefore the young king was crowned without her. The ob- 
stinacy of Marguerite on this occasion, as well as the cause of 
it, were highly displeasing to King Henry ; whilst her father, 
the King of France, was equally displeased, believing that a 
slight had been shown to his daughter, and that it had not been 
the wish of Henry that she should particioate in the honors he 
had bestowed upon his son. 

Troubles and vexations were now tnickening around Henry, 
and the old friendship for a Becket, which had turned to bit- 
terness, together with other causes of grief and annoyance, 
produced the most fatal effects on his temper and character. 
His fits of rage were like the frenzy of a madman, and it was 
during one of these paroxysms that he asked reproachfully, 
from the nobles who surrounded him, if there was no one who 
would free him from an insolent priest. The reproach needed 
no repetition; a Becket was killed - on the steps of the altar at 
Canterbury, but equanimity was not restored to the breast of the 
king. 

Queen Eleanor, during these events, remained in Aquitaine 
Her daughter, Matilda, was married to Henry, the Lion of 
Saxony. Her sons Richard and Geoffrey had been crowned, 
the one Count of Poitou, the other of Guienne, after the man- 
ner of their ancestors, and in accordance with the wishes of 
their respective subjects. But though King Henry had asso- 
ciated his eldest son with him on the throne of England, and 
had permitted his sons Richard and Geoffrey to remain with 
their mother during the regency of Aquitaine, he had no inten- 
tion of resigning out of his own hands the sovereign rule of 
that country. Eleanor, on the contrary, resolved that they 
should be independent of their father — that the sovereignty of 
those countries should pass into the hands of her sons, and that 
they should, as their Provencal forefathers had done before 
them, pay homage — if homage was to be paid at all — to the 
King of France. Eleanor probably was still more induced to 
take this hostile step from the reports which were now current 
of Henry's intrigues with the Princess Alice, the affianced wife 
of her favorite son, Richard, whom it was said he had seduced, 
and now kept in almost regal state at Woodstock. The tid- 
ings of this family revolt roused the angry king; and, accom- 



ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE. 57 

panied by his son Henry, he set out from England, resolved 
to subdue and punish his insurgent wife and children. Scarcely, 
however, had he set foot on the continent, when the young king, 
his companion, eloped from him, and, strange to say, fled to 
the court of Louis, where he was soon joined by his brothers 
Richard and Geoffrey, the former complaining bitterly against 
his father, because his wife, the Princess Alice, the daughter 
of Louis, was kept from him; and the latter demanding that 
his affianced wife, Constance, together with her dower, the 
duchy of Bretagne, should be given up to him. 

Eleanor, like her sons, unwilling to fall into the hands of the 
incensed king, fled also, resolving, like them, to throw herself 
under the protection of the king of France, and for this pur- 
pose, having as it would seem, but little faith in her own peo- 
ple, disguised herself in male attire, and set out. She had not 
proceeded far, however, when she was overtaken by the agents 
of her husband, and brought back to Bourdeaux — to the very 
city where twenty years before their nuptials had been per- 
formed with so much pride and pomp. Here she was made 
close prisoner till the arrival of her husband, and from this 
period a dark cloud of captivity and sorrow hangs for many 
years over the life of the once bright and beautiful Queen 
Eleanor. 

Henry returned to England, taking with him not only his 
queen as a captive, but also the young Marguerite, who, hav- 
ing dared to set her will in defiance to his in the matter of the 
coronation, was now to undergo humiliation and punishment. 
On his way to London, in company with his two captives, 
Henry performed his celebrated penance at the tomb of 
a Becket, which it may be supposed was no unpleasing spectacle 
to Marguerite, who, for her attachment to this great man, was 
now treated as a criminal. The young King Henry, through 
the intervention of Louis VII., to whom he had appealed, ob- 
tained his bride from his father, and the two were reconciled. 

Eleanor was placed in the palace of Winchester, under the 
dare of Randulph de Glanville, keeper of the treasure there, 
and here, with one short interval, she remained for sixteen 
years. 1 It was at the commencement of this long captivity that 
Rosamond Clifford died, -and it is in all probability from the 
circumstance of Queen Eleanor's disgrace and fair Rosamond's 
death occurring about the same period, that tradition has 
ascribed to the queen the murder of her rival. 



58 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Among the singular circumstances of Eleanor's singular life, 
the one that perhaps strikes us most is the good understanding 
that existed between the English and the French courts ; not 
only did the two kings, the former and present husband of 
Eleanor, seek a closer alliance through the marriage of their 
children, but behaved towards each other in the most friendly 
manner. When in 1179 Louis made a pilgrimage to the shrine 
of the new saint of Canterbury, Henry proceeded from London 
to meet him with the utmost respect at Dover, and after the 
performance of his religious vow, took him to the palace at 
Winchester, where Eleanor was confined ; but whether, to com- 
plete the strangeness of the whole, these two had an interview, 
we are not informed. 

Long years of strife and disunion between Henry and his 
sons and among the brothers themselves now succeeded, Henry 
being as unwisely partial to his eldest and youngest sons, 
Henry and John, as Eleanor had been to Richard and Geoffrey. 
This family feud was augmented by the troubadours of Aqui- 
taine, who, resenting the abduction and captivity of their be- 
loved princess, incited her favorite sons to open rebellion by 
their songs of war and lamentation. But a severer grief than 
the king had yet experienced was now at hand, in the death 
of his son Henry. This great sorrow, for the time, reconciled 
the alienated parents. Eleanor was restored to freedom, and 
during the time that their daughter Matilda, wife of Henry 
of Saxony, passed in England, regained even her rank as 
queen. 

But this amicable state of affairs could not last long. Rich- 
ard, now seven-and-twenty, had become heir to the throne, on 
the death of his brother, and again he demanded from his 
father his wife. But the father was obdurate ; it was even 
rumored that he intended to marry her himself, if he could 
succeed in obtaining a divorce from his queen or free himself 
from her by any other means. Such being the determination 
of his father, Richard, highly incensed, withdrew to Aquitaine, 
where he was soon in arms against him, and Eleanor was again 
returned to her captivity, where the songs of the Provencal 
poets, sympathizing in her sorrows, and vowing vengeance for 
all her wrongs, reached her heart, if not her ear. The king 
also had his partisans even in Aquitaine, and, to add still greater 
poignancy to Eleanor's sorrows, the whole of her beautiful 
country was for two years convulsed by civil war. Father 



ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE. 59 

and sons fought against each other. "It is the fate of our fami- 
ly," said Geoffrey, who held Limoges in the name of his mother, 
"that none shall love rest ; hatred is our rightful heritage, and 
none will ever deprive us of it." 

Soon after this, Geoffrey, being at a tournament in Paris, was 
flung from his horse, and killed on the spot. Like his brother 
Henry, he was remarkable for his beauty and his fine person, 
and his death was a severe affliction to his mother, who loved 
him with unspeakable tenderness. He had been brought up 
in her own province, and had ever warmly resented the unkind 
usage which she had received from his father. Speaking of 
this event many years afterward, when writing to the pope on 
the captivity of Richard, she says, "The younger king and the 
Count of Bretagne both sleep in the dust, while their most 
wretched mother is still compelled to live on, tormented by 
irremediable recollections of the dead." 

Scarcely was Geoffrey dead, when a fresh circumstance 
added indignation to Eleanor's grief, — this was the scandal 
occasioned by the attentions paid by her son John to Con- 
stance, the young widow of Geoffrey. Constance gave birth 
to a posthumous child, a son, who was called Arthur, that very 
Prince Arthur, who in after years, as the son of John's elder 
brother, disputed with him the crown, but whose life John 
did not dare to take until after the death of his mother. 

The whole of Aquitaine was now in the hands of Richard, 
and Henry, as the only means of depriving him of sovereign 
authority, released Queen Eleanor, and even conveyed her as 
far as Normandy, on her way to reclaim it. Once more, there- 
fore, Eleanor was at Bourdeaux with her beloved son, who, 
quickly resigning his authority into her hands, made his peace 
with his father. But peace could not long exist in this de- 
voted family. 

Richard, who had now become attached to the daughter of 
the King of Navarre, desired to make an end of his engage- 
ment with Alice, his long-withheld wife, and the fruitful cause 
of so much sin and sorrow; but even in this reasonable desire 
he was again thwarted by his father. Again a quarrel ensued, 
in which Eleanor, naturally taking part with her ill-used son, 
found herself once more a prisoner at Winchester. And thus 
in never-ending strife King Henry's days wore to an end. 

The last wrong which Henry did to his son Richard, was 
an attempt to crown John during his lifetime, as King of 



60 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

England, leaving to Richard alone the provinces beyond sea. 
Richard appealed to the King of France for aid in. asserting 
his birthright ; and the last tidings which reached the king — 
tidings which pierced his heart like a dagger — were, that the 
perverse, much-indulged John was in arms against him. He 
had consented to meet his son Richard and the King of France 
at Vezelai, to adjust their causes of difference, but on his way 
thither expired in one of those paroxysms of rage to which he 
was addicted. He died in the arms of Geoffrey, the youngest 
son of Rosamond Clifford, leaving with him his blessing, whilst 
his heart was rent with that hatred towards the princes his 
sons, of which even in death his countenance retained the most 
fearful traces. 

Richard, who inherited his mother's impulsive nature, 
whether for good or for evil, no sooner heard of the death of 
his father, than his soul was penetrated with grief and remorse. 
He hastened to the abbey of Fontevraud, where, according to 
Henry's dying wishes, his body had been conveyed, and hum- 
bled, penitent, and wrung with unavailing grief, advanced 
slowly toward the bier on which lay the dead king, his face 
still bearing evidence of his stern resentment. As Richard 
advanced, strange to say, blood gushed forth from the mouth 
and nostrils of the corpse — a sign, according to the supersti- 
tion of the age, that the body recognized the approach of its 
murderer, and thus testified against him. The sight over- 
came Richard ; weeping and horror-stricken, he knelt before 
the altar, praying for that forgiveness from God which he 
believed his father withheld from him. 

Richard was now king of England, and the first act of his 
sovereign power was to order the release of his mother and 
the imprisonment of the keeper de Glanville in one of the dun- 
geons of the palace. From Winchester Eleanor came forth a 
widow, but again a queen, for she was nominated by her affec- 
tionate son as regent of the kingdom during his absence ; and 
the first acts of her supreme power prove how worthy she was 
of the confidence he placed in her. During the reign of her 
husband the Norman forest-laws, which were relaxed during 
the rule of Beauclerc and Stephen, had been enforced with 
merciless severity, and the whole land groaned under them, 
the prisons being full of offenders, and the woods of outlaws. 
The first acts, therefore, of Eleanor were in mitigation of these 
laws. She went fjom city to city, not to parade her glory in 



ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE. 61 

mere pageantry, but on a royal progress of mercy. She at 
once set free all who were imprisoned for the breach of the 
forest-laws alone, — all who were outlawed for the same she 
invited back to their homes and families ; all who had been 
seized by the king's arbitrary commands, but were not accused 
by their hundred or county, she set free. Those alone she 
retained in prison who were proved malefactors on good and 
lawful grounds. Furthermore, in order to establish her be- 
loved son firmly on the throne of England, she commanded 
that every freeman of the kingdom should solemnly swear alle- 
giance and fealty to him; and this having been done, she 
returned to her palace of Winchester, her prison no longer, 
where she awaited his arrival. Three days after her arrival, 
Richard visited his mother, and at her representations and 
desire liberated the imprisoned Glanville, and even took him 
into favor, by which we infer, either that Eleanor was the 
most magnanimous of women, or that Glanville had not been 
a very harsh gaoler ; and both indeed may exist together. 

Richard settled a noble dower on his mother, and then pre- 
pared for his coronation, at which no women were allowed to 
be present, because his mother, on account of her recent 
widowhood, was obliged to be absent. Every circumstance 
indeed of his behavior to his mother evinced his deep affection 
and delicate consideration for her. He was anxious by un- 
bounded love and respect to compensate for her long years of 
sorrow and humiliation. 

The only person who appears to have been treated with 
severity by Eleanor was the unhappy Princess Alice, the cause 
of so much guilt and misery. From the time of Eleanor's 
enlargement Alice became a captive. To her, no doubt, the 
queen attributed, not only her own sufferings, but those of 
her son. 

Richard, in the following spring, set forth on his long-med- 
itated crusade, and his mother was dispatched to claim for 
him the hand of the beautiful and long-loved Berengaria of 
Navarre, whom she was then to conduct to Messina, to join 
him on his way to the East. Eleanor gladly undertook the 
office, which she faithfully performed ; Richard, in the mean- 
time, being engaged in Sicily in adjusting the affairs of his 
second sister, Joanna, — all which business was happily con- 
cluded, when the beloved mother and the no less beloved bride 
arrived. It was many vears since Eleanor had seen her 



62 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

daughter Joanna, nevertheless, at the wish of her son, she 
set out to Rome, after only four days' tarriance, for an inter- 
view with the pope, on behalf of that Geoffrey, the son of 
Rosamond Clifford, in whose arms King Henry had expired. 
Henry had promised him at his death the archbishopric of 
York, and it was to obtain the fulfilment of this promise that 
Eleanor shortened her visit in Sicily. This is an instance of 
magnanimity and of Christian forgiveness which has few 
parallels, and which exhibits the character of Eleanor in 
almost a sublime point of view. Her mission was successful, 
as it deserved to be, and she was present at the consecration 
of the new archbishop at Tours. 

During the absence of her son, Eleanor remained wholly 
in England, where she exercised the sovereign power with 
great wisdom, having appointed her grandson, Otho of Sax- 
ony, her regent in Aquitaine. She was now approaching sev- 
enty, an age which might naturally demand rest and peace ; 
but* the sorrows and anxieties of her life were not yet at an 
end ; she had yet to endure the bitterest grief -of all. At the 
time when the whole of England was eagerly looking for the 
return of her illustrious monarch, the tidings arrived that Iiq 
was a captive in Germany, and had been so for several months. 
The kingdom was filled with sorrow and indignation, and his 
broken-hearted mother wrote letter after letter to the pope, 
beseeching of him, who had the power, to obtain the release of 
her son, — that hero who had done such deeds of valor for the 
cross. In the agony of her soul she styles herself Eleanor, by 
the wrath of God, Queen of England. More eloquent letters 
were never penned : but the pope was immovable ; and, to add 
to her grief, John, taking advantage of his brother's captivity, 
laid claim to his kingdom. Again Eleanor appeals to the pope ; 
"King Richard," says she, "is held in fetters, while John, 
brother to the captive, depopulates with the sword and wastes 
with fire. The Lord is against me in everything, therefore 
do my sons fight against each other." "Thou hast the power 
to release my son," she again exclaims, "wherefore then dost 
thou so cruelly delay it ? Thou hast the power to release him ; 
let the fear of God displace all human fear. Give back my 
son to me, man of God, — if indeed thou be a man of God, and 
not of blood ! for if thou neglectest his liberty, the Highest 
will require his blood at thine hand." This eloquent appeal 
of a despairing and indignant heart concludes in a sublime 



ELEANOR OF AOUITAINE. 63 

strain of denunciation, like the voice of an oracle foretelling 
woe. "The time of dispersion is at hand, as the apostles pre- 
dicted, when the Son of perdition shall be revealed ; the peril- 
ous times draw on, when the seamless garment of Christ will 
be rent, the net of Peter torn, and the strength of catholic 
unity dissolved. These are the beginnings of evil ; we feel 
heavily, for we fear heavier things. No prophetess, nor the 
daughter of a prophet am I ; yet grief urges me to say many 
things ; but these words have escaped me, which that grief 
suggested, and they are written interrupted by sighs, and with 
a soul absorbed in woe !" 

At length, whether by the interference of the pope or the 
cupidity of the emperor, who preferred a large ransom to a 
captive king, Richard communicated to his mother that for 
the sum of 100,000 marks his liberation might be obtained. 
Immense as the sum was, Eleanor immediately set about to 
raise it ; a tax was levied on every knight's fee ; a vast amount 
of the treasures of the Church were disposed of ; she contrib- 
uted of her own wealth, and drained the resources of Aquitaine, 
and at length possessed of the greater part of the amount, and 
attended by the Archbishop of Rouen, a little before Christ- 
mas, set out for Mayence. There, on the feast of the Puri- 
fication, Eleanor received her captive son from the hands of 
the Archbishops of Cologne, in the presence of the emperor 
and all his assembled nobles. "The king being thus liberated," 
says the chronicle, "all the bystanders wept for joy;" and so 
they departed. 

On the 20th of March, King Richard and his mother arrived 
in England. John had been in arms against him, and Rich- 
ard's first feelings toward him were as to a traitor who 
deserved death ; but the aged mother, in whose purified heart 
mercy now held sway, rather than vengeance, so influenced 
John, that he met his brother only as a penitent, kneeling at 
his feet, and beseeching forgiveness. Richard extended his 
hand in token of pardon, saying, sorrowfully, "I would that 
I might as soon forget thy offense, as thou wilt forget my for- 
giveness." 

Not much is known of Queen Eleanor through several of 
the succeeding years. Richard was but little in England, 
where his mother still governed as his regent ; and, according 
to the historian of the time, she must have governed wisely, 
for he says she was exceedingly loved and respected by all 
people. 



64 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

In 1 199, King Richard died, in consequence of an arrow 
which was shot at him by Bertrand de Gourdon, at the siege 
of the castle of Chaluz ; and his noble forgiveness of this man 
on his death-bed is not only well known, but is worthy of all 
admiration, as one of the noblest incidents in the life of this 
Achilles of the middle ages. The grief of his mother for his 
loss was intense ; and while her heart was yet bleeding from 
this wound, occurred the death of her beloved daughter Jo- 
anna, the favorite sister of Richard. They were laid side by 
side, in the presence of the aged and afflicted queen, in the 
abbey-church of Fontevraud, where slept the remains of King 
Henry, their father. 

Eleanor, who was now verging on fourscore, did not again 
return to England ; and John, as if inspired by the example of 
his illustrious brother, and now the last remaining of her six 
sons, confirmed to his "most beloved and venerable mother," 
as he styled her, the whole of Poitou, and all pertaining thereto, 
to have and to hold for all the days of her life. One of her 
last journeys was to negotiate a marriage between Blanche of, 
Castile and Louis, the heir of the French crown. This she 
accomplished, and afterward conveyed the young bride to 
Bourdeaux — that Bourdeaux which had witnessed so many 
eventful periods of her life, from the young days of her folly 
and beauty to the present time, when, full of years and wis- 
dom, she became the ambassador of kings. 

Once more she was harassed by war between her remaining 
descendants, John and his nephew, Prince Arthur. Truly had 
Geoffrey, the father of this unfortunate young prince, said 
that hatred was the inheritance of his family. From the 
tumults and miseries of war the aged queen retired to her 
favorite Fontevraud, and there, in March, 1204, closed her 
long and eventful life. Her remains were laid near those of 
her husband and of her beloved son and daughter ; and, until 
within half a century, her effigy might still be seen, bearing 
unquestionable evidence of the combined beauty of her youth 
and" the intellectual grandeur of her mature age. 

Eleanor of Aquitaine stands pre-eminent among the great 
women of her age ; and if her early life was darkened by 
follies and even by crimes, the nobility of her character in after 
life, her commanding talents, her legislative wisdom, and her 
deep sorrows made ample atonement, and demand from us 
admiration rather than blame. 



BERENGARIA, 

CONSORT OF RICHARD THE FIRST. 

Berengaria was a princess of Navarre, and a descendant 
of that Sancho the Third, styled the Great, who, about the year 
980, was King of Navarre and Arragon. He married Nugna, 
the heiress of Castile, and by this accession of territory became 
so powerful that he aspired to be denominated the Emperor 
of Spain. But upon his death his dominions were divided 
among four of his children; and his transitory acquisition, 
which, if it could have been bequeathed in its integrity to a 
resolute successor, might have been beneficial, was productive 
of no permanent results. 

Sancho the Sixth, surnamed the Wise, was the parent of 
Berengaria. Her brother, Sancho the Strong, appears to have 
been precisely the character to have attracted the partiality of 
Richard Cceuer de Lion ; and accordingly we are not surprised 
to find that a close friendship existed between them. In addi- 
tion to his bravery, which in itself was a tie for the English 
prince, Sancho possessed a strong predilection for Provencal 
poetry of which Richard was an enthusiastic admirer. As 
Duke of Guienne, Richard was a near neighbor of the court 
of Navarre, and had ample opportunities of cementing his 
friendship for the brother, and of originating an affection for 
the sister. Probably, during the familiar intercourse arising 
from some sojourn at the castle of her father, Richard con- 
tracted his passion for Berengaria ; and it is affirmed that, 
fierce, ungovernable, licentious, and wayward as he was, spite 
of the many noble qualities of his nature, for a time he really 
passionately loved her. Whether this love was wholly merited 
does not unequivocally appear ; but we are told that she was 
gentle, beautiful, and instructed. 

While novelty existed, this pleasing princess must have made 
some strong impression on his volatile heart ; for during nearly 

6 5 



66 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

two years which followed his accession to the throne, he evi- 
dently maintained his desire to be wedded to her. Never- 
theless, long after this passion commenced, that is, in 1189, 
he would have married Alice of France, for the sake of the 
advantages which that alliance would then have brought to 
him. When, however, he became king, and needed no longer 
the support of Philip, he prepared himself to take for his 
bride, coeteris paribus, her whom personally he preferred ; 
and for this purpose he- dispatched his mother to Navarre, to 
obtain for him the hand of the Princess Berengaria. To the 
proposition of Queen Eleanor, Sancho the Sixth gladly 
acceded, and into her custody surrendered his willing daughter. 
They then bade farewell to his court, and commenced their 
journey to Naples, not to England; for by this time Richard, 
insatiate of military renown, had completed his preparations 
for his crusade against the infidels. On the plains of Vezelay, 
on the borders of Burgundy, Philip and Richard had assembled 
their mighty forces ; and there, after swearing mutually good 
faith, and to hold each other's dominions sacred during their 
absence, they arranged the plans of their expedition. Philip 
then took the road to Genoa, and Richard departed for Mar- 
seilles ; from which ports they embarked, environed by their 
respective and formidable armaments. 

Probably Richard's intention was to have touched at Naples 
to receive his bride ; but if this intention ever existed, it was 
defeated by a tempest, which compelled him to take shelter 
with his whole navy in the harbor of Messina, whither Philip, 
by the same ill wind, was also necessitated to fly for refuge. 
Through this disastrous influence of the elements occurred 
events which not only threatened for a time to prevent his 
union with the fair Navarese, but matured, if not sowed, those 
seeds of dissension between the two haughty monarchs which 
ultimately induced the failure of their expedition against the 
Saracens. 

In the inactivity which this unlucky incident occasioned, 
alone existed sufficient elements of mischief ; but many other 
adverse causes combined to strengthen irritation and animosity 
between the jealous and fiery chiefs of France and England. 
An artful Italian prince, Tancred, King of Naples and Sicily, 
was the great promoter of these divisions ; in order that their 
minds might be so engrossed by their mutual antipathy, that 
neither of them should have thought or leisure to be inimical 



BERENGARIA. 67 

to him ; for in both he had but too much reason to expect to 
find a foe. Richard was indignant with him because he had 
imprisoned his sister, Joanna, the Dowager Queen of Naples ; 
while Philip was displeased insomuch that the rightful heir 
to it was the wife of his ally, Henry the Sixth, Emperor of 
Germany. 

At length these divisions of the brothers in arms, as they 
were called, prevailed to such an alarming extent that the 
more prudent and well-intentioned of the barons on both sides 
intervened to endeavor to terminate this dangerous state of 
antagonism. A solemn conference was held for the purpose of 
discussing and composing every subject which then was, or at 
any time might prove likely to be, productive of controversy 
and alienation between the two sovereigns. But this expedi- 
ent, wise and well meaning as it was, threatened for a time 
to create the very conflagration which it was intended to pre- 
vent ; for one of the first combustible topics brought under 
the consideration of the council was the engagement of Rich- 
ard to marry Alice ! Then came the tug of strife, and very 
nearly of war, when the English prince declared that he would 
not only not wed Philip's sister, but that his reason for reject- 
ing her hand was that the lady's reputation was not as unsullied 
as it ought to have been ! The accusations advanced were so 
strong, and so respectably and unimpeachably sustained, that 
Philip was ashamed to enforce his sister's claim ; arid not only 
concurred in her rejection, but actually sanctioned the union 
of Richard with Berengaria of Navarre. 

From this period really commences the crusading career of 
Richard Cceur de Lion. Philip resumed his voyage for the 
Holy Land as soon as he had given his assent to the connubial 
intentions of the daring Plantagenet, who delayed for a brief 
time to follow him, in order that he might be accompanied by 
his bride. Speedily, therefore, after her arrival, under the 
protection of Queen Eleanor, at Messina, he sailed from that 
unquiet city ; having divided his armament into two squadrons, 
one of which he headed himself, and to the other, commanded 
by a noble knight, consigned the custody of Berengaria and 
his sister Joanna, the Dowager Queen of Naples. Here Queen 
Eleanor, bidding adieu to both her children, returned to~Eng- 
land before they quitted the port. 

Again Richard's fleet was destined to be exposed to the fury 
of the elements ; and that portion of it in which were embarked 



68 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the two princesses experienced the heaviest force of the tem- 
pest. Several of the vessels of the dispersed squadron were 
wrecked at Limousso, on the coast of Cyprus, where they were 
pillaged by Isaac, the caitiff prince of the island, who 'in puerile 
ambition attached to himself the title of emperor. But not 
satisfied with pillage, this lawless and impolitic despot not 
only loaded with chains and imprisoned the crews of the ves- 
sels he had plundered, but had the folly, as well as the bar- 
barity to prevent the ship which contained the princesses, and 
was most perilously tossing and laboring in the offing, from 
entering the harbor. Speedily, however, was ample vengeance 
taken for this ignoble cruelty ; for, oh approaching Cyprus, the 
first object Richard beheld was the dangerous position of his 
sister and Berengaria ; and on learning the cause, his fury 
knew no bounds. Scarcely waiting for the disembarkation of a 
few of the most eager of his warriors, he leapt on the shore, 
armed cap-a-pie and battle-axe in hand, and driving back the 
wrecker prince, who attempted to oppose their landing, 
Limousso was entered by storm. The triumphant avenger 
then signaled to the royal ship that it might approach with 
safety ; and the weary, anxious princesses once more escaped 
their perils by sea, and reposed themselves on a less unstable 
element. 

The next day Richard again defeated the felon Isaac, and 
compelled him to surrender. His person being seized, he was 
imprisoned and laden with fetters of iron; when, complaining 
bitterly that the quality of the metal which constrained him 
was not proportionate to his dignity, the fierce Plantagenet, 
from whim or ostentation, ordered him to be secured with 
chains of silver. This concession so gratified the vanity of 
the ignoble Isaac that he praised his conqueror for his 
generosity. 

In this appropriate isle Richard united himself to the fair 
Berengaria, amidst all the pomp and circumstances of oriental 
luxury and feudal power. If some historians are to be believed, 
King Richard did not escape from the bad influences which 
seem to be native to this island ; for, bridegroom as he was, it 
is asserted that he became enamoured of the daughter of his 
prisoner Isaac. But this imputation was, there is every reason 
to believe, wholly unfounded, and took its rise simply from 
this princess having accompanied to Palestine his queen, 
Berengaria. 




X 



Consort of '■JchJut* 



BERENGARIA. 69 

Richard arrived before Acre during, the siege of that city by 
the Crusaders, and contributed greatly to its capture. 

The subject of these pages, however, is Berengaria; and 
gladly would we give some details of her life and habits during 
this extraordinary siege; but history is dumb on the subject. 
The gentle lady seems to have been unnoticed in the glare 
which drew the universal and concentrated observation to her 
warlike husband. When Acre was taken, Richard established 
his queen and sister Joanna, Queen of Naples, safely there. 
They remained at Acre during the whole of the Syrian cam- 
paign, with the Cyprian princess ; and the ruins of a palace, 
to this day called King Richard's Palace, marks the spot of 
Berengaria's residence. It was at Acre that King Richard 
tore down the banner of Leopold, Archduke of Austria. The 
archduke was the uncle of the Cypriot princess, and it is said 
that her remaining in the train of Berengaria was the real 
cause of quarrel. 

No sooner was Acre taken than a quarrel also sprung up 
between Richard and the King of France, which proved fatal 
to the enterprise. Richard performed prodigies of valor, but 
he was by no means supported by his ill-affected allies. When 
Richard had arrived almost within sight of the Holy City, 
news was brought him that the Duke of Burgundy had re- 
treated, expressly to prevent Richard having the honor of 
taking it. On hearing this, he threw down his arms, crying, 
with tears in his eyes, and hands uplifted towards heaven, 
"Ah ! Lord God, I pray thee that I may never see thy holy city 
Jerusalem, since things thus happen, and since I cannot deliver 
it from the hands of thy enemies." He returned to Acre, made 
peace with Saladin, and set sail for Europe. 

Voltaire remarks, "If Richard returned to Europe with more 
glory than Philip obtained, at all events he returned less pru- 
dently." And nothing but the extraordinary character of this 
prince can explain the temerity with which he determined the 
mode of his return to his dominions. A mysterious estrange- 
ment is said by the chroniclers at this time to have existed 
between himself and Berengaria, and Richard's partiality 
towards the Cypriot princess is assigned as the cause. But 
the mode of their return renders this improbable. Berengaria, 
Joanna of Naples, and the Cypriot princess, embarked in the 
same vessel for Naples, where they safely arrived. Richard 
himself set sail in another vessel, which was wrecked on the 



70 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

coast of Istria, whence, by a strange and unexplained fatality, 
he rushed forward in disguise into the very territory, and into 
the actual vicinity of the capital, of his incensed foe, the Arch- 
duke of Austria. Here he was seized and confined, first in the 
castle of Diirrenstein, on the Danube, and then in that of 
Trifels, in the Vosges, as the prisoner of the emperor, to whom 
he had been sold by Leopold, and from whence he was ran- 
somed, as already related in the life of his mother. 

At Rome, Berengaria first heard of this treacherous cap- 
tivity ; but history does not record that she made any efforts to 
emancipate him. Probably her gentleness may have verged 
upon inertness : if she had been active and impassioned, as 
was the aged Queen Eleanor, the voice of her supplications 
must have been heard throughout the European world. Nev- 
ertheless, she seems not to have been entirely supine with regard 
to her own position ; for, being detained at Rome through fear 
of the emperor, her continuous and urgent solicitations induced 
the Pope to grant her an escort to convey her and Joanna, by 
way of Pisa and Genoa, to Marseilles. Here she found a 
protector in her kinsman, the King of Arragon, who was her 
safeguard through his own dominion of Provence, and then 
dispatched her onward under the guidance of Raimond de St. 
Gilles. This noble knight performed the part of guardian so 
zealously and dexterously, that he won the heart of the fair 
Queen Joanna, to whom, on their arrival in Poitou, he was 
united in marriage. He was evidently a marvelously insin- 
uating man, for he had already had three wives, and contrived 
to have a fifth before he died. This union healed the long 
breach which had existed between the House of Aquitaine and 
the Counts of Toulouse, Queen Eleanor giving up her rights to 
her daughter Joanna, now the wife of the famous Raimond 
the Sixth, Count de Toulouse, the supporter of the Albigeois, 
and the foe of the equally celebrated Simon de Montfort. 

Richard did not arrive in England till after an absence of 
more than four years. Here he was received with rapturous 
delight, and was now crowned a second time, at Winchester, 
but without his queen, Berengaria, from whom he still con- 
tinued estranged. During Richard's imprisonment Berengaria 
had lost her father, Sancho the Wise ; and her brother, Sancho 
the Strong, was now sovereign of Navarre ; and it was at the 
earnest entreaty of Berengaria that this monarch had been 
induced to rescue Richard's duchy of Normandv, which had 



BERENGARIA. 71 

been invaded by the King of France, on account of Queen 
Eleanor forcibly detaining there the Princess Alice, that fruit- 
ful cause of discord. 

After a short stay in England, Richard went over to France, 
and resided some months in his Angevin territories. Here 
Berengaria was living, but Richard went not near her, and his 
conduct at that time is described as dissolute and disgraceful. 
It was not till 1196 that Richard, beginning to repent of his 
sinful life, became reconciled to his queen. Higden, in his 
"Polychronicon," says : "The king took home to him his queen 
Berengaria, whose society he had for a long time neglected, 
though she were a royal, eloquent, and beautiful lady, and for 
his love had ventured for him through the world." This took 
place at Poitiers, at Christmas, which he kept in that city in 
princely state. From that time Berengaria and Richard were 
never again parted. But from that time till his death he was 
totally absent from England, where Berengaria, though queen 
of the country, never was. 

The death of Richard, which occurred in April, 1199, was 
occasioned by his cupidity. He had heard a tale that Vidomac, 
Count of Limoges, had found in a field a great treasure of 
golden statues and vases. Richard demanded his share, as 
sovereign of the country. There being no such treasure, none 
could be delivered; and Richard, besieging the count's castle 
of Chaluz, was killed by an arrow. Berengaria was with him 
at the time. The death of Richard was immediately followed 
by that of his sister, Joanna of Naples, who came to solicit his 
aid against the enemies of her second husband, Raimond of 
Provence, and was laid with her royal brother in the same 
vault. This was immediately followed by the death of Beren- 
garia's only sister, Blanche; and thus was this unfortunate 
queen at once deprived of all who were dear to her in the world. 
She resolved, therefore, to retire from it, and fixed her resi- 
dence at Mans, in the Orleanois, where she founded the noble 
Abbey of L'Espan. 

Berengaria lived many years after the death of her husband ; 
but, if her married state did not attach to her celebrity, of 
course her widowhood was still more obscure. Nothing fur- 
ther is known of her than that she was occasionally engaged in 
pecuniary strife with that very fraudulent person John, and 
subsequently with Henry the Third, neither of these monarchs 
paying regularly their stipulated composition for her English 



72 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

dower ; and Berengaria, who seems to have considered the 
office of pope as by no means a sinecure, invariably summoned 
him to act as her advocate. We have seen how, when she was 
in distress at Rome, she obtained assistance from Celestine, 
the pope of that day ; nor does she seem to have been less pre- 
vailing in subsequent time's ; for his holiness, like a good preux 
chevalier, always stepped effectively forward to her succor. 

She died at some period between 1230 — the year in which 
she completed her noble Abbey of L'Espan, to which she then 
finally and fully retired — and 1240. She was buried in her 
own abbey, where her tomb still remains, bearing a fine effigy. 
An existing writer thus concludes a memoir of her : "From 
early youth to her grave, Berengaria manifested devoted love 
for Richard ; uncomplaining when deserted by him, forgiving 
when he returned, and faithful to his memory unto death." 



ISABELLA OF ANGOULEME, 

QUEEN OF JOHN OF ENGLAND. 

Isabella of Angouleme, the consort of John — the mean- 
est, most cruel, and evil-disposed monarch that ever wore the 
English crown — was the daughter and heir of Aymer Taillefer, 
Count of Angouleme. In infancy her parents had contracted 
this fair and rich heiress to Hugh de Lusignan, a noble gen- 
tleman, brave and handsome as he was powerful ; and who, 
through his influence as eldest son of the reigning Count de la 
Marche, governor of those provinces forming the northern 
boundary of the Aquitanian dominions, then called French 
Poitou, could at any time raise the ban and arriere-ban, and 
pour the chivalry of a large portion of France on the southern 
provinces. 

This match was, at the time of its contraction, considered an 
eligible one for the heiress ; and she was accordingly, after 
the custom of the period, with all ceremonious observance, 
delivered over by her parents to the care and custody of her 
betrothed, and placed by him in one of his stout fortresses, 
where she remained, strongly guarded, and with a brilliant 
retinue, up to the age of fifteen. At this time John cast his 
eyes upon her at a festival held on the occasion of his being 
recognized as sovereign of Aquitaine, and struck by her won- 
drous beauty, and ever impetuous in all his motions, instantly 
— although he knew of her betrothment, and was himself 
married to Avisa, the grand-daughter of Robert of Gloucester 
— offered her his hand. 

There can be little doubt but that Isabella was attached to 
her affianced husband; but, urged by her parents in John's 
favor, she was unable to withstand the dazzling splendor of 
the crown. John at this time was thirty-two, and Isabella just 
turned fifteen ; and as the lady's parents managed matters so 

73 



74 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

as to evade her return to the custody of her hetrothed, she 
was married to her royal lover at Bordeaux in the month of 
August, 1 200 — the Archbishop of Bordeaux and the Bishop 
of Poitou, who both assisted at the ceremony, declaring that no 
impediment existed to the union. 

Lusignan, on being informed of this marriage, was highly 
incensed, and sent a cartel to the English king, defying him to 
mortal combat. John, however, affected to laugh at the mes- 
sage. "If," said, he, "the Count of Lusignan wishes for a 
combat, I will find a champion to do battle for me." "A 
champion appointed by the unscrupulous king," returned the 
brave Marcher, "would be either some mercenary ruffian or a 
common stabber, unworthy of my weapon." He therefore 
silenced his outraged feelings, and patiently waited for his 
revenge, whilst John carried off his bride in triumph to Eng- 
gland, where she was publicly recognized as queen. 

The coronation of John and Isabella took place at Westmin- 
ster on the 8th of October, 1200; and the intervening months 
between this time and the following Easter were spent in a 
continual round of feasting and jollity. Wars and insurrec- 
tions then broke out. The young Arthur Plantagenet, sup- 
ported by Sir Guy of Thouars, who had married the Duchess 
Constance of Brittany, and in whose behalf Anjou and Maine 
had already declared, asserted his claim to the crown ; added 
to which, the wrathful Lusignan, together with his brother, the 
powerful Count of Eu, was raising Poitou. 

Under these circumstances John and his bride embarked 
for Normandy, and establishing their court at Rouen, where 
Prince Arthur was afterwards murdered, resolved to meet the 
coming dangers. 

For some time, nowever, after his arrival, the king neg- 
lected all necessary preparation ; and, as was his wont, spent 
the hours which should have been dedicated to sterner mat- 
ters, in voluptuous pleasure. His days were, for the most 
part, passed in bed — his nights in riot, drunkenness, and de- 
bauchery. From these idle follies he was suddenly roused 
by news that "the mother-queen," Eleanor of Aquitaine, was 
assailed at her castle of Mirabel, in Poitou, by the forces of 
Count Hugh of Lusignan and Prince Arthur. For once the 
spirit of the Plantagenet seemed alive ; he traveled with incred- 
ible speed, and appeared so unexpectedly before Mirabel, that 
he struck a panic into the hearts of his foes. Isabella had 



ISABELLA OF ANGOULEME. 75 

now to witness a conflict between the forces of her husband 
and those of the man whom she really loved. John was suc- 
cessful; and Lusignan, his rival in love, and Arthur, his rival 
in empire, were both taken prisoners by him. 

There can be little doubt but that the entreaties of Isabella 
prevailed in Lusignan's favor ; for although John treated him 
with the grossest indignity, even carrying him in a tumbril- 
cart, bound hand and foot, in triumph through the country, 
yet he spared his life ; whilst others of the insurgent barons of 
Poitou, having been conveyed to England, were starved to 
death in a dungeon of Corfe Castle, by the king's especial 
order. 

Bitterly now must Isabella have repented her splendid 
match, for the temper of John was gradually growing more 
morose and violent. Arthur was murdered ; and the proud 
Lusignan, refusing all submission, was consigned to one of the 
dungeons of Bristol Castle, at the same time that the lovely 
sister of the murdered Arthur, surnamed the Pearl of Brit- 
tany, was also a prisoner there. John, who in some measure 
had been kept in check by his mother, the able Eleanor, 
seemed, after her death to give full scope to his evil nature, 
and even Isabella became the object of his harsh and brutal 
treatment. Himself in the constant habit of invading the 
honor of the female nobility, he naturally believed his wife to 
be guilty of infidelity, and therefore listened to the reports of 
every dishonest knave whom he hired to watch her. No less 
than three persons against whom his suspicions were raised 
were murdered ; and, in order to strike terror into the heart of 
his wife, their dead bodies were discovered by her hang- 
ing over her bed. Soon after this, and although she was 
the mother of three children, she was arrested and placed un- 
der restraint, and lived for some time in constant fear of 
assassination. 

From the year 12 12 it is probable that John and his wife 
came to an amicable understanding; her mother visited Eng- 
land, and put herself under the protection of John, and he 
and his queen went over to Angouleme. The Poitovin prov- 
inces of John being again seized by Philip, he was compelled 
to enter into an alliance with his former rival, Count Hugh 
de Lusignan, who had been now some years at liberty. The 
count refused his aid unless John gave him his eldest daughter, 
then an infant, to wife: — an atonement, as he said, for having 



76 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

robbed him of the mother in former years ; and John actually 
delivered over to Lusignan's custody Isabella's infant daugh- 
ter, Joanna, in order that she might be placed in one of his 
castles, as her mother had been before her. 

Soon after his return to England, the queen found herself 
suddenly superseded in the affections of her consort by Ma- 
tilda, surnamed "The Fair," the daughter of Lord Fitzwalter ; 
and Isabella was again imprisoned in order to keep her out of 
the way. This act of violence, however, completed the exas- 
peration of John's English subjects. The beautiful Matilda, 
who resisted the passions of the lawless monarch, being pois- 
oned, as was supposed, by his orders, the barons flew to arms 
to avenge the honor of their class, outraged in the person of 
Lord Fitzwalter, the father of Matilda ; and the granting of 
Magna Charta was the consequence. 

John's demoniac rage was now without bounds ; nevertheless, 
he and his wife became again reconciled ; she was released 
from confinement, and entrusted with the custody of her son, 
Prince Henry, the heir to the crown, and, with the remainder 
of her children, took up her abode at Gloucester, where she 
gave birth to two other children, both daughters. 

It was during the time of this royal residence at Gloucester 
that the nation, exasperated by the tyranny of their depraved 
king, offered the crown to the heir of France. John, on this 
invasion, fled into Norfolk, thence to Swineshead Abbey, in 
Lincolnshire, where, suddenly falling sick, or being poisoned 
as some suppose, he was thence removed to Newark, where he 
died. On the death of her husband. Isabella seems to have 
roused herself to action, and assumed somewhat of the stern, 
resolved deportment of her fierce mother-in-law. She assem- 
bled her followers, and, together with the noble Pembroke, sal- 
lied from the castle and proclaimed her son Henry king, in the 
streets of Gloucester ; and a few days afterward the boy king 
was crowned in the cathedral. At this coronation, so hastily 
performed, a curious circumstance took place, which suffi- 
ciently marked the spirit of the period. John, while marching 
with his hastily levied powers across the seashore from Lynn 
to Lincolnshire, lost the crown from his helmet. In conse- 
quence of this loss, and the regal crown being in London, the 
queen, dreading the danger of delay, plucked the collar she 
usually wore from her throat, and with this the young king was 
crowned. 







7 u < te&mt/? 



ISABELLA OF ANGOULEME. 77 

Within twelve months after the death of John, Isabella re- 
turned to her native country. She was now thirty-four years 
of age, and, although the mother of several children, still re- 
puted the most beautiful woman of her time. Whether or not 
she still retained any affection for her early lover, she, in a very 
short time, became the successful rival of her own daughter, 
Joanna, then but seven years of age; and in the year 1220, 
without leave or license of the king or his council, she re-mar- 
ried her former intended spouse, the affianced husband of her 
child, Lusignan, Count de la Marche. 

This marriage, contracted without his leave, so offended 
King Henry, her son, that he withheld her dower ; and, al- 
though but fourteen years old, as their quarrel proceeded, he 
wrote, with his own hand, a letter to the pope, requesting him 
to excommunicate both his mother and father-in-law. To this 
somewhat unscrupulous request from so young a king the pope 
demurred. The thunders of the Vatican were not to be lightly 
used, and they had indeed been of late frequently hurled both 
on France and England. On inquiring into the cause of the 
quarrel, his holiness conceived that matters might be readily 
accommodated by "very easy arguments of love"; and, after a 
long correspondence, a match was made up between the young 
king of Scots and "little Joan Makepeace," as she was after- 
ward called ; the Scottish king receiving back his two sisters, 
who had previously been pawned to King John for a consid- 
erable sum of money. 

Her early marriage and association with John, whose char- 
acter was a complication of vices as mean and odious as they 
were ruinous to himself, and destructive to his subjects, appear 
to have had their effect upon the disposition and temper of Isa- 
bella in after-life. She was now married to one whom she had 
long regretted and still loved ; but she found it impossible to 
forget her former grandeur as Queen of England. More 
especially was she incensed and annoyed on finding herself 
obliged to yield place and precedence to the heiress of Toulouse, 
wife of the Count of Poitou,.to whom her husband was obliged 
to do homage, but whose rank she considered inferior to her 
own. This overweening pride eventually proved her ruin. In 
her offended dignity she stirred up her husband to throw off 
his allegiance to the French king, and to involve himself in a 
most disastrous war. Defeat followed defeat, and, notwith- 
standing the unlucky count was aided by Henry of England, to 



;8 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

whom he had, at his wife's instigation, transferred his alle- 
giance, the valiant Marcher found himself obliged to send his 
young son Hugh to sue for pardon from Louis, which was 
easily granted on very light conditions. 

But neither defeat nor forgiveness appear to have amended 
the spirit of Isabella. She, on the contrary, treasured up a 
secret feeling of revenge against the French monarch, and sub- 
orned some of her followers to attempt his life by poison. 

Doubts have been thrown, it is true, upon Isabella's partici- 
pation in this attempt ; but as she fled for sanctuary to the 
Abbey of Fontevfaud immediately after the arrest of the as- 
sassins, and as they accused her in confession, there is sufficient 
cause to suspect her guilt. In the meantime, while she re- 
mained in sanctuary, her husband and her son Hugh were both 
seized by direction of the French king, and ordered to be 
brought to trial for participation in the diabolical attempt. 
Lusignan repelled the charge, and demanded the duel, defying 
Alphonzo, his accuser, and vowing that he would prove the 
innocence of himself and family in the lists. Alphonzo, how- 
ever, declined putting the issue of his life and truth on such a 
venture, upon the plea that a traitor like the Count de la 
Marche was unfit to meet a true knight. Isabella's youthful 
son, Hugh, upon this evasion, also rebutted the charge, and 
offered himself as an antagonist. At first this second chal- 
lenge was accepted, but eventually declined, by Alphonzo, who 
stigmatized the young Marcher as infamous, in common with 
his whole family. 

These tidings, brought to Isabella at Fontevraud, seem to 
have broken her spirit. The remainder of her life was passed 
in penance and prayer ; and assuming the veil, she soon after- 
wards died. At her own request she was buried without 
pomp or ceremony in a lowly grave amongst the sisterhood 
of the abbey. 

Three years after her death the Count de la Marche was 
seen amongst those who followed the expedition of the French 
king to Damietta ; and according to Montfaucon, he fell fight- 
ing against the infidel in the same ranks with his old enemy, 
Alphonzo, Count of Poitou. 

Thus died Isabella of Angouleme and the Count de la 
Marche. Isabella left behind her a reputation for exceeding 
beauty and for great pride ; and from her having been the 
cause of the war of precedence — if it may be so called, — she 



ISABELLA OF ANGOULEME. 79 

was nicknamed by the French and Poitovins "Jezebel of 
Angouleme." 

Previous to his departure for the Holy Land, the unlucky 
Count de la Marche bequeathed all his younger sons and his 
daughter Alice to the care of Henry III. His eldest son, 
Hugh, who had so manfully asserted the innocence of his 
family, succeeded to both his father's patrimony and also to 
his mother's fair inheritance. Henry accepted the trust, and 
amply provided for his half-brothers and sister. The latter 
he gave in marriage to the Earl of Warren. 



ELEANOR OF PROVENCE, 

QUEEN OF HENRY THE THIRD. 

Eleanor, no less celebrated for her beauty (which acquired 
for her the surname of La Belie) than for those defects which 
rendered her so unpopular in England, was the daughter of 
Raimond Berenger, Count of Provence, grandson to King 
Alphonso of Arragon, and of Beatrice, daughter of Count 
Thomas of Savoy. Raimond Berenger, the last Count of 
Provence, cultivated poetry with some success, and encouraged 
the literature, if such it might be called, of the troubadours, to 
whom he gave a hospitable reception at his court. Beatrice, 
his countess, also courted the muses, and, if we may judge by 
the only couplet of her poetry preserved, her writings were 
more remarkable for freedom of sentiment than for delicacy. 

Eleanor of Provence is said to have possessed much of the 
talents and accomplishments of both her parents, and while yet 
in early youth was the author of a poem still preserved, and 
said to have considerable merit. Beauty and talents, how- 
ever, although gifts to be prized, were insufficient to fit their 
possessor for the duties imposed by the high station to which 
they assisted to elevate her. Nor was Henry the Third a 
prince likely to correct by his judgment the errors of his 
youthful queen, or by his example to lead her to the path of 
duty. Weak, unsteady of purpose^ and avaricious, he had 
few qualities calculated to make a favorable impression on the 
heart of his bride, or to inspire her with respect for his opin- 
ions. Disappointed as he had so frequently been in his matri- 
monial projects, he was probably so gratified to find himself at 
last the husband of so lovely and brilliant a creature as Eleanor, 
that he was more disposed to yield implicit compliance to her 
will than to assert his own. The education and example she 
received, in a court like that of her parents, were not cal- 
culated to form the principles or correct the failings of the 

80 



ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 81 

youthful and nattered beauty; and although she derived 
instruction from Romeo, according to Dante, one of the great- 
est Italian poets of his time, who was treated more as a friend 
than a retainer in the family of her father, it may be doubted 
whether a strict morality, not in those days considered of such 
vast importance as in our own, was inculcated. The morality 
of the troubadours was of an extremely lax kind. Exag- 
gerated notions of love and honor, formed only in a chivalrous 
point of view, pervaded society, and were nowhere more prev- 
alent than in the court of Raimond Berenger and his Countess 
Beatrice. 

The disparity of years between Henry and Eleanor, he being 
more than double her age, which might, had he possessed a 
firmer character, have given him an influence over her, pro- 
duced no good effect ; and the love of finery, less pardonable in 
a man of mature years than in a more youthful one, must 
have encouraged the natural taste for jewels and rich clothes 
evinced by the young queen. This passion of Henry the 
Third for personal finery is more to be wondered at when his 
love of money is taken into consideration, of which a strong 
and ungracious proof was given in his reiterated demands for 
an increase of the portion he expected to receive with his 
youthful and lovely queen, whose father's finances by no means 
enabled him to satisfy the inordinate cravings of his future 
son-in-law. Henry, however, was too much in earnest to 
forego the lady on account of the smallness of her dower. 
He wrote in great terror to his ambassadors, telling them to 
conduct the marriage at once, either with or without money, 
so that he had but the wife. 

The progress of Eleanor to England was a continued scene 
of splendor. Followed by a numerous train of high-born 
ladies, and noble lords and knights, with poets to sing her 
praises, and crowds to echo them, she was everywhere received 
with honor and distinction. Thibaut of Nassau, himself a 
poet, not only exercised a princely hospitality towards her and 
her stately train, but, attended by his court, escorted her to the 
frontier of France. Here her sister, the queen of Louis the 
Ninth, received her, nor left her until she embarkd for Eng- 
gland, where she landed in January, 1236, and the marriage 
was celebrated at Canterbury, whither Henry had proceeded to 
meet her, followed by a vast train of his lords and high clergy. 
The coronation of the queen, for which preparations on the 



82 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

most magnificent scale had been made, took place within a 
week after the nuptial ceremony, and, as if to mark it with a 
more solemn character, Henry, two or three days preceding 
it, laid the first stone of the Lady Chapel in Westminster 
Abbey. 

Anxious to do honor to their liege lady, the citizens of Lon- 
don had commanded their streets to be cleaned, so that when 
she passed naught offensive to her eyes or olfactory nerves 
could be encountered, while bright-colored tapestry and silks, 
wreaths of flowers, and flaunting banners, hung from the win- 
dows, making a gay and brilliant sight. The citizens, mounted 
on gallant steeds, and clothed in robes "dight with gold and 
rainbow hues," rode forth to meet their sovereigns, whose 
dresses, composed of a tissue of gold, then little known in 
England, and adorned with jewels of the most costly descrip- 
tion, dazzled the eyes of all beholders. Never previously had 
aught approaching the magnificence displayed on this occasion 
been witnessed in England, and long after did the heavy 
expense incurred for it embarrass the sovereign, and compel 
him to have recourse to his subjects to aid him in his difficul- 
ties. He found them little disposed to assist him, so that he 
had the double mortification of being obliged to solicit and of 
being refused. 

England, ever looking with jealousy and dislike to the influx 
of foreigners, viewed with distrust the numerous train that 
flocked over with the queen ; and the favor shown by Henry 
to the uncle of his consort, Peter of Savoy, tended greatly to 
increase these prejudices and jealousies. To gratify Eleanor, 
her weak husband bestowed on her uncle that portion of Lon- 
don which took the name of the Savoy, a piece of misplaced 
generosity that deeply displeased his already discontented sub- 
jects. The exactions of the pope, carried into effect by his 
legates, helped still more to alienate the affection and respect 
of the English from their sovereign, and as this alienation soon 
became known at foreign courts, encroachments were made on 
Henry's power, from the conviction entertained that, aware of 
the disaffection of his people, he dared not, however great 
the provocation, count on being assisted to repel or to avenge 
them. On the promises of Henry no confidence could be 
placed. His tergiversations had taught his favorites, as well 
as the rest of his subjects, to put no trust in him, and even 
those whom .he most favored were, by the force of example. 



ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 83 

so well aware of the instability of his good-will, that they 
sought to take the utmost advantage of it, careless how much 
injury they entailed on this weak and vacillating monarch by 
their covetous exactions. With such a husband, Eleanor must 
have been indeed a woman of more than ordinary good sense 
and high principle to have escaped being involved in his 
unpopularity, and, unfortunately, we have no evidence to prove 
that she possessed these qualities. Under the influence of her 
Uncle, Peter of Savoy, she aided him to attain a power over 
Henry never exercised but for his own selfish ends, and which 
defeated the efforts made by Prince Richard, the king's 
brother, to enlighten him on the danger he was incurring by 
lavishing the subsidies, raised with much difficulty from his 
subjects, on foreigners whom they detested. 

It was not until 1239 that Queen Eleanor gave Henry an 
heir to the English crown, who was named Edward, a name 
rendered popular in England from that being borne by Edward 
the Confessor. The birth of Edward cemented the affection 
of Henry for his queen, and increased her influence over him. 
He commanded the apartments she occupied to be adorned 
in a style of luxurious elegance hitherto unknown in England, 
and remarkable for good taste in a period when it was so 
little understood. Eleanor's passion for jewels was encouraged 
rather than checked by her husband. She wore these costly 
ornaments on her head, neck, waist, and robes ; and the money 
expended on them is said to have amounted to no less a sum 
than thirty thousand pounds, an expenditure which the country 
could ill afford at that period, and which added to the dissatis- 
faction of Henry's subjects, so often and heavily taxed to 
supply his wants. He had created Peter of Savoy, Earl of 
Richmond, which furnished another cause of discontent in 
England, still more enhanced when the influence exercised over 
the weak monarch by that noble became known. 

The near connection between the kings of France and Eng- 
land, they having married sisters, did not strengthen the good 
understanding which such a relationship is supposed to estab- 
lish. 

Louis, heir presumptive to the throne, having, when peace 
was accorded to him during the minority of Henry the Third, 
consented to the conditions required, namely, that he should, 
when he succeeded his father as King of France, yield up the 
provinces seized by Philip from King John, failed in the per- 



84 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

formance of this engagement, and, in 1224, having made him- 
self master of La Rochelle, Henry, determined to attempt its 
recovery, demanded from parliament money to engage in a 
war for this purpose. The parliament assented to the demand, 
but made it an express condition that the charters should be 
strictly fulfilled. Henry consented, and issued orders to that 
effect throughout the kingdom. 

But these charters were not completed, and the king entering 
into long and disastrous wars with France covered himself 
with debts and difficulties. Both he and his queen became 
very unpopular. 

At home the weak infatuation of Henry for Simon de Mont- 
fort, whom he created Earl of Leicester, and gave him the 
hand of his sister, exasperated further the public dissatisfac- 
tion. This was heightened by Queen Eleanor procuring the 
see of Canterbury for her uncle Boniface, another foreigner. 

Henry continued his campaigns in France with signal dis- 
grace and loss of men, money, and territory. It was not until 
he had exhausted all the resources of the treasury at home that 
he could be persuaded to return to England. He then com- 
manded his nobles to meet him at Portsmouth, as if he were 
a conqueror returning to his kingdom in triumph, instead of 
coming back a defeated and dishonored sovereign, who had 
not only lost his possessions in Poitou, but had pledged himself 
to pay five thousand pounds a year to France. It was during 
this ill-fated war that Eleanor gave birth to a daughter at 
Bordeaux, named Beatrice. 

While Henry was occupied in feasting and amusements at 
Bordeaux, Eleanor was negotiating a marriage between, her 
sister Sancha and Richard, Earl of Cornwall, who had lost his 
wife some months before. In this prince the queen, his sister- 
in-law, had hitherto found an opponent to the influence she 
exercised over her weak husband, and the evil use to which 
she turned it. It was probably a desire to conciliate the oppo- 
sition of Richard that induced her to effect this marriage ; and 
if so, it succeeded. 

In a few months after the return of Henry and his queen 
from Bordeaux, the Countess of Provence accompanied the 
betrothed Sancha to England for the celebration of her 
nuptials. This event furnished a fresh occasion for expense ; 
and the finances of Henry being then in a state little calculated 
to defray it, he had recourse to one of those unprincipled 



ELEANOR OF PROVE-NCE. 85 

measures but too common during his reign whenever his 
coffers required replenishing. He sought a quarrel with the 
Jews, in order to have a pretext for extorting a large sum 
from them in the shape of a peace-offering, and lavished on 
the marriage festival alone an enormous portion of the money 
thus shamefully acquired. Some notion of the profusion of 
this feast may be formed from the statement of Rapin, that 
no less than thirty thousand dishes were served. Nor 
was the cost occasioned to Henry confined solely to the mar- 
riage ; for the Countess of Provence, before she left England, 
levied a heavy contribution, in the shape of a loan, from her 
royal son-in-law. 

The death of Isabella, the queen-mother, wife of the Earl 
of Marche, who died in 1246, entailed fresh expense on her 
son, King Henry ; for her daughters and her sons by the Earl 
of March forthwith came to England, to claim, at the hands 
of their half-brother, that provision of which they stood in the 
greatest need, they being in want of the means of subsistence, 
their father having, to get rid of them, thrown them wholly 
on the generosity of the king. These half-brothers were Guy 
de Lusignan, William, and Athelmar. The arrival of these 
needy and ambitious claimants occasioned considerable embar- 
rassment to Henry, and dissatisfaction to his subjects. Ambi- 
tious and vain-glorious, the pretensions of these three 
young men were not easily to be gratified; and the English 
looked with anger on the expenses incurred for this purpose, 
which they considered as so much taken from themselves. The 
disagreements between Henry and his barons had now reached 
that point that when he again applied to parliament for money 
he met with stern reproaches only; and finding he had little 
to hope for, he prorogued the parliament, and threw himself 
more than ever on his foreign favorites for advice and support. 
Being in great want of money, he determined on the sale of 
his jewels and plate, which were soon purchased by the citizens 
of London, to his 'great anger and mortification, they having 
pleaded ^poverty when he required their aid ; and, to punish 
them, he"established a fair at Westminster, to last fifteen days, 
during which time all trading was strictly prohibited in Lon- 
don. His next measure was to decide on keeping his Christ- 
mas in the city, at the expense of the citizens, and to compel 
them to present him with valuable gifts on the new year's day, in 
addition to which he extorted from them two thousand pounds. 



86 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Shortly after, a new and undignified measure for acquiring 
money suggested itself to him. It was no other than that of 
borrowing sums from the rich portion of his subjects on pleas 
known to be so false that they imposed on no one ; and, having 
condescended to this meanness, he exposed himself to denials 
and excuses from all to whom he applied. 

In the early part of 1245 Eleanor gave birth to a second son, 
named Edmund. This prince entered the world under inaus- 
picious circumstances ; for the unpopularity of his mother, 
and the impoverished state of his father had increased ; and 
such was the mal-administration of the laws, that open defiance 
was offered to thein by men who fearlessly plundered whenever 
an occasion offered, and added insult and abuse to robbery- 
Nor were the persons of the king and queen held more sacred 
by them than those of their subjects; for when traveling 
through Hampshire their luggage was stolen, and themselves 
exposed to the low scurrility of a riotous mob. The impunity 
hitherto permitted, Henry determined should be put an end 
to ; for evils that touched the great personally were sure in 
those days to draw an attention, if not a punishment, too often 
denied to those which fell on persons of less note. Made aware, 
by what had occurred to himself, of the supineness and pusil- 
lanimity of those appointed to carry the laws into effect, Henry 
resolved on administering justice himself, and presided on the 
judicial bench in Winchester; and this was perhaps the sole 
occasion, during his long reign, in which he evinced spirit and 
determination. That there was great need of such spirit was 
evident by the refusal of Lord Clifford to appear at the king's 
summons before him. He not only treated the king's mes- 
senger with great insolence, but compelled him to eat the royal 
warrant, seal and all. Henry for once showed a proper feeling, 
and punished Clifford severely. 

The appointment of Boniface, uncle to Queen Eleanor, to 
the see of Canterbury, effected through her influence over her 
weak husband, and by her letter to the pope, occasioned general 
discontent in England. Boniface was universally deemed a 
very unworthy successor to St. Edmund, the late archbishop ; 
and, as if to justify the prejudices entertained against him, 
he committed an act that drew down on him condemnation 
and hatred. He thought fit to make a visitation to the Priory 
of St. Bartholomew, which, being in the diocese of the Bishop 
of London, he had no right to interfere with. Here he insulted 



ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 87 

and beat the canons, who instantly appealed to the king. But 
Boniface had anticipated this measure, and, aided by the queen, 
he persuaded Henry to refuse to see them or give them redress. 
So great was the indignation of the people on this occasion, 
that they pursued Boniface to Lambeth, threatening to put him 
to death, and lavishing on him the most opprobrious epithets. 
This proof of the bad use made by Eleanor of the influence she 
possessed over Henry makes us less surprised at the hatred 
she incurred from her subjects; and that such a state of 
misrule could so long have continued seems, indeed, the only 
matter for wonder. Another cause for the dislike entertained 
against Eleanor was her conduct with regard to the dues on 
cargoes landed at Oueenhithe, Ripa Reginse, or Queen's 
Wharf. These dues, "which formed a portion of the revenues 
of the queens of England, were proportioned to the value of 
the freights ; and Eleanor, regardless of justice and public 
opinion, used her influence to compel all ships laden with 
valuable merchandise to land their cargoes at Rotherhithe. 
This tyrannical proceeding occasioned great discontent, and 
kept up such ill-will, that the queen at last sold her privilege to 
the king's brother, the Earl of Cornwall. Large as were the 
sums exacted by Eleanor and Henry from their subjects, both 
found themselves continually involved in pecuniary embarrass- 
ments by the reckless manner in which they lavished money 
on their foreign relations and favorites. The Countess of 
Provence, the mother of the queen, was a perpetual drain on 
the purse of her daughter ; and even after the queen, by the 
death of her mother-in-law Isabella, in 1246, came into 
possession of her dowry, the demands from her mother kept 
her finances embarrassed. .Some notion of the impoverished 
state of the king and queen may be formed, when it is known 
that Henry caused to be pawned an image of the Virgin Mary, 
for the purpose of raising money to pay the salaries of the 
officers of the Chapel Royal at Windsor Nor was this the 
only extraordinary measure to which, in his pecuniary difficul- 
ties, he had recourse ; for he descended to a meanness of which 
few, if any, of the reputable portion of his subjects would have 
been guilty, — namely, the soliciting money from all persons 
of distinction whom he encountered. The better to excite 
sympathy and compassion, the king and queen, putting aside 
the robes befitting their state, adopted simple ones, and, self- 
invited, dined at the tables of the rich, — a condescension so 



88 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

little valued that those on whom it was conferred were not 
found willing to repay it by gifts expected by the sovereigns, 
in proof of loyalty to their persons. 

The celebration of the nuptials of Margaret, the eldest daugh- 
ter of the king and queen, with Alexander the Third, King of 
Scotland, was the sole gratifying event that interrupted the 
chain of distressing ones which marked the year 1251. This 
ceremony took place at York ; and the archbishop of that see, 
with a generosity then become rare, offered to defray all the 
expenses of the feasts to be given on the occasion — an offer 
peculiarly acceptable to Henry and Eleanor, and attended with 
great cost to the archbishop. The gorgeousness of the dresses 
worn at this ceremony is handed down to posterity by several 
are said to have displayed not only extreme richness, but a 
fine taste for picturesque effect. 

It was soon after the celebration of these nuptials that the 
return of Simon de Montfort from Gascony, where he had 
been some years governor, embittered the life of Henry, by 
the insolence and violence with which he presumed to treat 
him. Henry was compelled to recall Simon from Gascony, and 
to place his son and heir, Edward, only fourteen years of age, 
there in his stead. He soon, however, learned that the Gascons 
had formed the project to deliver Guienne to the King of 
Castile, — a project, which, during the presence of Leicester, 
they dreaded to attempt, but which they now openly avowed ; 
and the king determined to proceed to Guienne, to defeat their 
schemes. The queen was appointed regent, in conjunction 
with her brother-in-law, the Earl of Cornwall ; and Henry and 
his train, including nearly all his barons, left England in 
August, for Bourdeaux, where he placed himself at the head 
of the army. Henry was blamed for vesting such power in the 
hands of the queen, whose unpopularity in his kingdom was so 
well known, that it was to be feared she might be tempted to 
make reprisals on those who had offended her. But, even 
had she not been appointed to the regency, and had the sole 
power been vested in Richard, Earl of Cornwall, so great was 
the influence of Eleanor over his sister Sancha, who ruled her 
husband almost, if not quite, as much as the queen did Henry, 
that the wishes of Eleanor would, in all probability, have been 
carried into effect as implicitly as if the whole power had been 
vested in her. Of all the policy of Eleanor, the having accom- 
plished the marriage between her sister and the brother of the 



ELEANOlTOF PROVENCE. 89 

king was the most successful in its results ; for by it she not 
only disarmed the opposition more than once exhibited by the 
Earl of Cornwall against her influence over the king, and 
especially in the overweening favors lavished on her own 
family, .but drew him wholly to her side, by thus connecting 
him so closely with that very family. Hence, although the 
king expected that Eleanor would be guided by the advice of 
her co-regent, he knew that she had nothing to fear from the 
sister of her husband ; and, when recovered from her confine- 
ment of a daughter, the Princess Catherine, — which event took 
place in November, — she assumed the reins of government, 
fully determined to exercise only her own sovereign will. 

One of the earliest proofs of her despotism was given by 
demanding of the citizens of London a considerable sum of 
money, on the plea that it was due to her as the fines on the 
renewals of leases of the crown lands, it being customary to 
pay the queens of England a certain voluntary fine on such 
occasions. But the money now demanded was on heavy fines 
unjustifiably exacted from the citizens by the king on various 
pretexts ; consequently, this new act of injustice and oppres- 
sion on the part of the queen not only enraged those against 
whom it was directed, but forcibly reminded them of the 
former extortion of the king. Eleanor, angered. at the resis- 
tance offered to her unjust demand, commanded the imprison- 
ment of the sheriffs of London, — a proceeding that drew on 
her general indignation. 

In 1255, the queen, by decree of the king, summoned a 
parliament to grant supplies to meet the war in Guienne ; but, 
disappointed in this attempt, she remitted from her owns funds 
a considerable sum to Henry, who instructed his representa- 
tives at home to levy contributions on the Jews, whom he 
never spared when in need of money. With the gold thus 
extorted, Henry was now joined by the queen, who, having 
committed the' regency to the Earl of Cornwall, set out for 
Bourdeaux with her sister Sancha, escorted by a vast train 
of lords and ladies, and commenced a system of reckless 
extravagance and light pleasures that bade fair soon to con- 
sume it. 

The marriage of Prince Edward with Eleanor of Castile 
had lately been arranged, and it was decided that the queen 
was to accompany the prince, her son, to his nuptials. It was 
an extraordinary coincidence that Edward should marry the 



9 o THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

daughter of Joanna, who had been affianced to his father, who 
had broken off the -engagement to wed Eleanor, and which 
breach had furnished the papal see with an excuse for harass- 
ing Henry with doubts of the legality of his marriage with 
Eleanor, — doubts so often and so powerfully urged, that it 
was only by the sacrifice of a large sum of money that bulls 
were obtained from the pope declaring the marriage of Henry 
and Eleanor valid. The nuptials of Prince Edward and 
Eleanor of Castile were celebrated with great pomp; after 
which, the queen, with the youthful bride and bridegroom, 
returned to join King Henry, who had remained at Bourdeaux. 
Here an invitation from King Louis was sent to the royal 
party to visit his court : and Louis and his queen, attended by 
a train of nobles, met his expected guests at Chartres, whence 
they conducted them to Paris. Eleanor, with many faults, was 
remarkable for the strong affection she bore to her family; 
hence, the meeting with her sister, the Queen of France, must 
have been peculiarly gratifying to her. The palace of the Old 
Temple, at Paris, was prepared for the reception of the royal 
party, who entered the French capital with a splendid train; 
and, shortly after their arrival, Henry bestowed a very large 
sum on the French poor, and entertained with princely hospi- 
tality and regal magnificence his royal relatives. No less than 
three sovereigns sate at this splendid feast; the King of 
Navarre, as well as St. Louis, being one of the guests. After 
a sojourn of a week at Paris, during which period the King 
and Queen of England received every honor from the royal 
hosts, they departed en route for their own dominions, and 
landed at Dover early in January, 1255. Their entry into 
London was made with unwsual pomp and ceremony, and the 
citizens were again called on to assist in defraying a portion 
of the expense attending it. 

About this period the pope invested Prince Edmund with 
the kingdom of Sicily, which caused infinite joy to his weak- 
minded father ; for Henry forgot, in the gratification of his 
paternal vanity, the difficulties in which this dangerous gift 
was likely to involve him. Nor was it long before he found 
himself on the eve of engaging in a war in support of the 
pretensions of Edmund, still a mere boy, to the great dissatis- 
faction of his subjects, who, already harassed by the frequent 
exactions of the king, looked with dread to future ones, likely 
to spring from this source. Before, however, Henry could 



ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 91 

embark in this new folly, intelligence reached him that the 
King and Queen of Scotland were held in durance by John 
Baliol, and the Comyns, regents during the minority of Alex- 
ander. This news was the more alarming from the circum- 
stance that these persons were the next heirs to the crown, 
and filled the breast of Eleanor, always a most tender mother, 
with such terrors for the safety of her daughter, that a long 
and severe illness was the consequence. Instead, therefore, 
of turning the British arms against those who disputed Prince 
Edmund's title to the sovereignty of Sicily, Henry, urged by 
his queen, undertook a campaign against the oppressors of the 
youthful Scottish monarchs ; but, before he could reach Scot- 
land, the Earl of Gloucester had, in disguise, gained access to 
the castle, and had admitted his adherents, who restored the 
king and queen to liberty, after having suffered great hardships 
and indignities. They shortly afterward proceeded to Wark 
Castle, to join the queen, then confined there by indisposition, 
and remained with her until her recovery enabled her to go to 
Woodstock, whither they accompanied her. Splendid were 
the festivities that followed the arrival of the royal party at 
Woodstock, which were soon after joined by Richard, Earl 
of Cornwall, lately elevated to sovereignty in the room of the 
late Emperor of Germany, and who had taken the title of 
King of the Romans. These festivities, attended with such 
heavy expense, were shortly followed by a famine, to which 
the people were less disposed to submit patiently, from its 
being generally believed to have originated in the vast sum 
drawn from England by the King of the Romans — a sum said 
to amount to seven hundred thousand pounds. And, as if this 
famine were not a sufficient calamity for the people, the queen 
again claimed from the city her queen-gold — a claim always 
unpopular, but at this crisis of distress peculiarly so. Henry 
took an active part in extorting this demand, which greatly 
increased the dislike entertained by his subjects to him and 
the queen. 

The death of the youthful Princess Catherine occasioned 
great sorrow to Eleanor and Henry, both of whom were fondly 
attached to their offspring, and for some time diverted their 
attention from pursuing the claims of Prince Edmund to the 
Sicilian throne. But when their regret had a little subsided, 
they again turned their views to this point ; and, in order to 
bring over his refractory barons to grant money to establish 



92 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

his son's right, Henry had Edmund attired in regal robes, and, 
presenting him to them, appealed to their feelings in his behalf. 
But this effort to excite their sympathies was unsuccessful, and 
Henry was compelled to seek from the relatives of his queen 
the assistance denied him at home. While the misunderstand- 
ing of the sovereigns with their subjects daily increased, each 
endeavoring to circumscribe the power of the other, the Duke 
of Bretagne arrived in England to claim the hand of the 
Princess Beatrice, and the nuptials were celebrated with great 
magnificence. 

The Earl of Leicester was at this period wielding the power 
the possession of which Henry so much envied him ; and it 
was a bitter humiliation to the king to feel that to this all- 
powerful enemy, whom he feared no less than he hated, he 
owed the money required to keep up the regal state for the 
nuptials. Henry and Eleanor now began to dread the result 
of their impolitic measures ; and, to secure themselves against 
the vengeance they anticipated, betook themselves to Windsor 
Castle and the Tower, both of which were more strongly forti- 
fied to resist the rebellious subjects whose outbreak was ex- 
pected. The death of the queen's sister, Sancha, Queen of 
the Romans, in 1261, fell heavily on the heart of Eleanor, who 
was deeply attached to her, and this event, occurring when 
affairs in England wore so threatening an aspect, greatly added 
to the gloom of the queen. The royal pair gained a short 
respite from the fears that harassed them, through the absence 
of the Earl of Leicester from their kingdom ; but his return 
the following year renewed their alarm, and was quickly 
followed by his urging the barons to confirm the Oxford 
statutes, which he had violated. 

On Prince Edward's return to England he committed one of 
those acts which have unfortunately cast an indelible stain 
on a character that had so many brilliant and noble qualities. 
The little importance attached to high principles of morality 
and probity in that age, of which so many examples were fur- 
nished him, cannot plead his justification for an action so 
inconsistent with common honesty as to merit the severest 
reprobation. Being aware that the queen, while suffering 
under some of those pecuniary difficulties which but too often 
were the result of her own and the king's extravagance, had 
placed her jewels, as security for a considerable sum of money, 
in the Bank of the Knights Templar, in which many persons 



ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 93 

deposited money and valuables both for safety as well as for 
loans, the prince, unable to discharge the long arrears of pay 
due to his army during the campaign in Wales, and anxious 
to retain them in force for anticipated emergencies which the 
troubled state of the kingdom menaced, bethought him of 
demanding of the head of the establishment of the treasury of 
the knights, to be shown the queen's, jewels, alleging, as an 
excuse, a doubt of their being in safe custody. He entered the 
bank, forced open all the chests deposited there, and possessing 
himself of the queen's jewels and ten thousand pounds in 
cash, he carried off his booty to Windsor. The historians of 
those times give us no reason to believe that this reprehensible 
conduct on the part of the heir to the crown met with any 
censure from the king or queen ; while a contemporary chron- 
icler, Matthew Paris, gives but too many instances of the 
faults committed by Eleanor and her son, whenever opportuni- 
ties were afforded them of interfering in the government, 
which the queen had helped to render so unpopular. Never 
was her unbounded influence over her weak and infatuated 
husband exercised for any good purpose ; while, on the con- 
trary, it was opposed to the maintenance of those charters 
which could alone preserve a good understanding between the 
sovereign and his subjects, and the violation of which exposed 
the throne to frequent danger, and the kingdom to fearful 
commotions. The exactions and cruelties perpetrated on the 
Jews during the reign of Henry cannot be perused without 
indignation and horror. The desire of plundering them was 
the incitement to many an outbreak ; nor were leaders, even 
among the nobles, found wanting to head an infuriated mob, 
bent on pillage against an unoffending people, who were robbed 
and, in many instances, murdered It was on one of those 
occasions that the queeen was so grossly insulted by an infuri- 
ated rabble, when the terrible onslaught on the Jews, led on 
by Baron Fitz-John and Bucknell, took place, in which the 
lives of several hundreds of those unfortunate victims, many 
of whom were among the most opulent of their persuasion, 
were sacrificed. Appalled by the shouts of the murderers and 
cries of the murdered, Eleanor, then inhabiting the Tower of 
London, accompanied by the ladies of her court, fled into the 
royal barge, and attempted to proceed to Windsor by water. 
The barge was no sooner descried by the maddened crowd, 
than they rushed in a dense mass to the bridge, uttering the 



94 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

most disgus.ting and fearful menaces against the terrified queen, 
to whom they applied the grossest term of reproach and 
hatred, pelting the queen with filth, while others hurled down 
huge stones on the barge to destroy it. Seeing that her 
destruction would be inevitable is she persisted in proceeding, 
Eleanor was only saved by returning to the Tower, half-dead 
with terror. This violent attack on the queen induced Henry 
to remove her and her children to France, where he left them 
under the protection of the queen, her sister, and returned to 
face the troubles that menaced not only his throne, but his life, 
at home. Prince Edward had been, during this crisis, at 
Windsor, brooding, with fierce anger, over the insult offered 
to his mother, which he impatiently longed to avenge. Nor 
was an opportunity long denied him ; from the decision of the 
King of France, to whom the English barons had referred 
their complaints against Henry, not proving satisfactory to 
them, an open warfare was the result, and in the battle fought 
at Northampton, the victory was on the royal side, and the 
eldest son of the Earl of Leicester, with several of the most 
powerful of the barons, were made prisoners. 

The success attending the royal arms drew from the barons 
an offer of thirty thousand marks, if the king would grant a 
peace ; but, on this occasion, Henry evinced more spirit than 
he had hitherto shown. He refused the offer, and the battle 
of Lewes was the result — a battle which would have decided 
the civil war in the total discomfiture of the army of the barons, 
had not the fiery impetuosity of Prince Edward led him to 
throw away the brilliant advantage he had gained. He, at 
the head of his cavalry, chased the retreating foes, animating 
his soldiers by the cry of Queen Eleanor's name, which he 
madly shouted, and at Croydon, when he came up with them, 
the lives of a vast number were sacrificed in revenge for the 
insult offered to his mother. While this imprudent pursuit was 
taking place, the absence of so considerable a portion of his 
best troops left Henry and the King of the Romans exposed ; 
and the consequences were, that both were taken prisoners, 
and Edward, on his return to the battlefield, too late discov- 
ered the result of his own reckless conduct, and was compelled 
to yield himself a prisoner to Leicester, who sent him, with 
his father and uncle, to Wallingford, while the rest of the 
king's troops proceeded to Bristol Castle, of which they took 
possession. The queen instructed Sir Warren de Basingbourne, 



ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 95 

a devoted adherent of her son's, that the prince might be 
rescued, if Wallingford were surprised by the troops at Bristol. 
This brave knight no sooner received this intimation, than, 
with three hundred horse, he proceeded to Wallingford at 
night, and so vigorously attacked it at daybreak, that he won 
the outer wall in spite of the desperate defense made by the 
garrison. Alarmed for the result, the .besieged answered from 
the inner wall, that if the object of their assailants was to get 
the prince, he would be shot to them by the mangonel, an 
engine of war, then in use for casting stones. This menace 
being heard by the prince, he sought permission to address his 
friends, and, from the wall, he declared that their persistence 
in the attack would cost him his life. They retired, greatly 
dispirited ; but this attempt furnished an excuse for the Earl 
of Leicester to convey his royal prisoner to Kenilworth Castle, 
where the sister of Henry, the Countess of Leicester, was then 
residing. 

The queen, though greatly disappointed by the failure of 
Sir Warren de Basingbourne's attempt to liberate the prince, 
was by no means disposed to remain inert while he was- a 
captive. Her next effort was to hold a secret correspondence 
with the Lady Maud Mortimer, who instructed Edward to 
attempt his escape, when taking his daily exercise on horseback, 
by engaging in races with his attendants till he had too much 
fatigued their steeds to pursue him, while she would have a 
fleet courser concealed in a neighboring grove. The prince 
adopted the project, gained his freedom, and joined his adher- 
ents. Meanwhile, Eleanor was not inactive, though frequently 
enjoined by the letters of Henry, dictated, no doubt, by Leices- 
ter, to take no step or change the state of affairs. With 
the money raised on her. jewels, and other resources, she 
collected in France a powerful army, and manned a fleet, to 
effect the liberation of her husband and his brother, the King 
of the Romans ; but, before they could land in England, the 
victory achieved by Prince Edward at the battle of Evesham 
rendered their services unnecessary. During this action the 
life of Henry, whom Leicester had placed in front of his 
troops, was exposed to great danger. Wounded in the shoul- 
der, he was on the point of being killed by one of the soldiers of 
Edward, who believed him to be on the adverse side, when 
he called aloud, "I am your king — slay me not!" He was 
rescued from his dangerous position by an officer, who con- 



96 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

ducted him to his victorious son, who received him with 
joyful tenderness, knelt before him, and craved his paternal 
benediction. 

Great and universal was the terror felt by the rebellious 
subjects of Henry, of the retribution that might be taken for 
the sufferings endured during fourteen months by the sover- 
eign and his family. But, contrary to their expectations, the 
triumph of royalty was unstained by a single act of sanguinary 
vengeance. Of a nature never cruel, Henry loved better to 
punish the sins of his subjects through their moneys than by 
bloodshed. Their late crimes . of lese-majeste furnished an 
excellent excuse for enriching his queen's finances at a heavy 
cost to theirs, and he exacted from his refractory barons such 
heavy fines to fill his own coffers as to reduce them to absolute 
poverty, and to drive them into a fresh outbreak under the 
son of Leicester, which might have occasioned new troubles, 
if not disasters, had not the queen then arrived, accompanied 
by Cardinal Ottoboni, the pope's legate, armed with excommu- 
nications against Leicester and his followers, which greatly 
aided in quelling the rising rebellion. 

The tranquillity of the realm remained undisturbed until 
1267, when the Earl of Gloucester headed a revolt and attacked 
the palace at Westminster, which the insurgents plundered and 
nearly destroyed, murdering with savage cruelty the royal 
domestics. There is little doubt that had the queen not been 
absent, her life would have been endangered on this occasion, 
for the outbreak was marked with more violence and ferocity 
than all former ones. The personal bravery of Prince Edward 
was of high importance during this rebellion, for he conquered 
by his own hand the last partisan of Leicester, Adam Gordon, 
a man no less remarkable for physical force than for high 
courage, and afterwards obtained his pardon through the 
queen. 

Tranquillity being now restored to his father's domains, 
Edward resolved to put his long-intended project of engaging 
in the crusades into effect. Previous to his departing, the 
canonization of Edward the Confessor took place, a ceremony 
solemnized with great pomp and state, and on which occasion 
the mortal remains of St. Edward were removed from the spot 
where they had reposed to a magnificent shrine prepared by 
Henry for their reception, and for the decoration of which the 
queen contributed some jewels of considerable value, and an 



ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 97 

image of the Virgin in silver. Prince Edward, on assuming 
the cross, was accompanied by his princess and his brother 
Edmund, leaving his children in England ; and although Prince 
Edmund had only been some months wedded to a fair and 
youthful bride, the Lady Aveline, sole heiress to the Earl of, 
Albemarle, he could not be dissuaded from joining his beloved 
brother. The lovely Aveline lived not to behold the return 
of her husband, for she sank into a premature grave when only 
one year a wife. 

Death had been busy with the royal family during the first 
year of Prince Edward's absence from England ; for not only 
was Boniface, Archbishop of Canterbury, uncle to the queen, 
summoned to another world, but the King of the Romans ex- 
pired. This last blow fell so heavily on the king as greatly 
to impair his health, and shortly after he was seized by a fatal 
distemper when at Bury St. Edmund's, whither he had gone to 
restore tranquillity, some alarming riots having lately occurred 
in that neighborhood. Aware of his own danger, he insisted 
on being removed to London, and arrived there in a dying 
state; his thoughts still anxiously bent on the welfare of the 
absent heir to his crown, he compelled the Earl of Gloucester 
to bind himself by an oath to preserve peace and order in the 
kingdom during the absence of the prince. 

Henry departed this life on the night of November the 16th, 
1272, after a reign of fifty-six years, and in his sixty-sixth 
year. Having appointed the queen regent, she, four days after 
the decease of her royal husband, caused the prince to be pro- 
claimed king, by the title of Edward the First. The remains 
of the late sovereign were interred with great state and 
grandeur in Westminster Abbey, and the funeral expenses, 
which amounted to a large sum, were defrayed by the Knights 
Templar. When the obsequies of Henry had been performed, 
the barons assembled before the high altar of Westminster 
Abbey, and swore allegiance to their new monarch — an allegi- 
ance strictly kept by them, as well as the rest of his subjects, 
during his protracted absence in the crusade. A new grief 
was added to that of Eleanor for her royal spouse, by the death 
of the Queen of Scotland, her daughter, to whom she was 
fondly attached. This amiable lady left an only child, who 
afterwards became Queen of Norway. Nor were these afflic- 
tions the only ones which Queen Eleanor had endured since the 
departure of Prince Edward ; for she was severely tried by 



98 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the deaths of three of his children previous to that of King 
Henry, so soon followed by that of the Queen of Scotland. 
When, nearly two years after Edward's accession to the crown, 
he returned from his eastern expedition, his coronation took 
place ; and this event, which should have been an occasion of 
rejoicing to his mother, became one of deep sorrow, owing to 
the sudden death of her only surviving daughter, Beatrice, 
Duchess of Bretagne, who, with the duke her husband, came 
to England to participate in the splendid festivities attending 
this ceremony. 

After this affliction, the queen-mother resided seldom in 
London, but lived in much privacy at Waltham and Lutger's 
Hall, until she retired to Ambresbury, where, four years after, 
she took the veil, chastened by many trials. and sorrows, having 
seen seven of the nine children she had borne to King Henry 
depart this life in the prime of their days. The princes and 
princesses to whom she had given birth were remarkable for 
beauty, intelligence, and devotion to her ; so that it cannot be 
wondered at that the high spirit and unbending haughtiness, 
which no other trials could subdue, yielded to the regret of the 
fond mother. 

The retired queen had the consolation of retaining her rich 
dowry, as Queen Dowager of England, and Edward the First 
continued an affectionate and respectful son. He visited the 
queen-mother before and subsequently to her pronouncing the 
monastic vows ; and it was no slight proof of his obedience to 
her wishes, that he yielded to her desire that the Princess Mary, 
his fifth daughter, should take the veil, against the consent of 
her mother, whose grief on the occasion must have greatly 
pained him, devoted as he was to his beloved queen, Eleanor of 
Castile. King Edward is said to have often referred* to the 
opinion, and profited by th^ counsel of his mother, up to the 
close of her life. 

That the seclusion of a conventual life, and the duties im- 
posed by her vows, had produced a salutary change in the 
sentiments of the once haughty Eleanor, is proved by the wis- 
dom and moderation of the advice given by her on her dying 
bed to the king, not to extort or receive a confession of his 
accomplices from a criminal then under conviction for treason, 
under circumstances that greatly aggravated his crime, and 
whose confession it was more than suspected would compro- 
mise the safety of many individuals of consequence about the 
court. 



ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 99 

Eleanor expired at Ambresbury, nineteen years after the 
death of her husband, while the king, her son, was in Scotland ; 
on whose return her remains, which had been embalmed, were 
interred with all due honor and solemnity in the church of her 
convent. She had lived to see the subjection of Wales to Eng- 
land, and her grandson, Edward of Caernarvon, contracted in 
marriage with her great-great-granddaughter Margaret, heiress 
of Scotland and Norway ; thus adding the prospect of the addi- 
tion of those countries to the already great territories of Eng- 
land, Ireland, Wales, Aquitaine, and Poitou. After all her 
troubles, her sun, thus went down in a peaceful grandeur. 



Lore. 



ELEANOR OF CASTILLE, 

FIRST QUEEN OF EDWARD THE FIRST. 

Among the monuments to departed kings and queens which 
surround the ruined, but still magnificent, mausoleum of 
Edward the Confessor, in Westminster Abbey, there are two 
altar-tombs in particular, which recall a host of romantic asso- 
ciations, at which the stranger dwells the longest, and which 
are the last to fade from his memory. The first, which is of 
considerable size, is of gray unpolished marble — massive, unor- 
namented, and simple almost to rudeness ; looking like, what in 
reality it is, the sarcophagus of a warrior-king. But how can 
we find language to describe the surpassing beauty of the 
other! On a cenotaph of Petworth marble, and under a rich 
Gothic canopy, reclines a female figure of copper-gilt, habited 
in the graceful costume of the thirteenth century. "There it 
lies, not a feature of the face injured — not a finger broken off 
— perfect in its essentials as on the day it left the studio; 
whilst, all around, marks of injury and dilapidation meet you. 
on every side ; it is as though its own serene beauty had ren- 
dered violence impossible — had even touched the heart of the 
great destroyer Time himself." How easy and how dignified 
is the attitude of the recumbent figure ! How elegant the 
hands ! How gracefully, from under the regal diadem, the 
long tresses fall on the rounded shoulders. The countenance, 
too, which is represented as serenely smiling, is one of angelic 
loveliness, breathing eloquently of that feminine softness of 
character and purity of heart which were the characteristics of 
its living original. The former tomb is that of the great war- 
rior, Edward the First ; the other that of his beautiful and 
affectionate consort, Eleanor of Castile, — of her 

"Who, like a jewel, did hang twenty years 
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ; 
Of her, that loved him with that excellence 
That angels love good men with." 




'■£-■ 'iff- Z^YjAi^e/ 7 



ELEANOR OF CASTILLE. 101 

Eleanor, daughter of Ferdinand the Third, King of Castile, 
by Joanna, Countess of Ponthieu, was borri about the year 1244. 
She could scarcely have entered on her eleventh year when 
she was demanded in marriage by Henry the Third, King of 
England, for his eldest son, Prince Edward, then a youth of 
fifteen. The consent of her brother Alphonso, the reigning 
King of Castile, having been readily obtained, it was agreed 
by the contracting parties, that within a stipulated time the 
young prince should proceed, with his mother, Eleanor of Pro- 
vence, to Burgos, the capital of Old Castile, in order to be 
united to his almost infant bride. Rapin, who wrote in 1725, 
informs us that in his time the scroll, sealed with gold, in which 
Alphonso gave his written consent to the union of his sister 
with the Prince of England, was still preserved in the Chapter 
House at Westminster. 

At this period, Henry the Third was holding his court at 
Bourdeaux, from which place the young prince and his mother 
crossed the Pyrenees to Burgos, which city they reached on the 
5th of August, 1254. Their arrival in the Castilian capital 
was celebrated with all those circumstances of gorgeous mag- 
nificence which were the characteristics of the middle ages ; and 
for several weeks the fine old city of Burgos was the scene of 
successive tournaments and festivals. It was on one of these 
occasions that Prince Edward was dubbed a knight by his 
royal brother-in-law. Queen Eleanor was so delighted with 
her visit, that she remained there till the summer of the follow- 
ing year, when she recrossed the Pyrenees, accompanied by her 
son and his infant bride, and rejoined her husband, King 
Henry. 

King Henry kept his Christmas at Bourdeaux, where — 
determined not to be surpassed in magnificent hospitality by 
the Castilian monarch — he celebrated the espousals of his son 
and daughter-in-law with a splendor entailing such lavish ex- 
penditure as to draw down upon him the indignant outcries of 
his English subjects. "The King," says Daniel, "consumed all his 
treasure in these journeys, which was reckoned at two hundred 
and seventy thousand pounds ; more than all the lands which 
he had in those countries were worth, had they been sold right 
out ; which, when he was told of, he desired it might not be 
published to his disgrace." [Matthew Paris places the king's 
expenses at the same enormous amount. He also tells us that 
when one of his confidential advisers remonstrated with him on 



102 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

his extravagance, Henry retorted, with his accustomed oath — ■ 
"For the head of God, say no more of it, lest the very relation 
make men wonder, and stand amazed." 

From Bourdeaux the royal family of England, attended by a 
numerous calvacade, proceeded homewards by way of Paris, 
where, on their arrival, they were lodged by King Louis in the 
Palace of the Temple, which had recently been built. Occupy- 
ing this vast building, Henry endeavored to outvie the French 
monarch in the number and splendor of his entertainments. 
One festival in particular is recorded, which was so magnificent 
as to obtain for it the distinguishing title of the "Feast of 
Kings ;" the Kings of Scotland, France, and Navarre being 
present. There appears to have been an amicable contention 
between the two former sovereigns which should force the 
other to occupy the place of honor at the banquet. It ended, 
however, by Henry firmly insisting on his own inferiority ; 
alleging, that being compelled to do homage to the French 
king for the territories which he held in his dominions, he 
could regard him in no other light than his sovereign. 

In consequence of their youthful age, it was not till several 
years after their espousals that Edward was allowed to con- 
summate his marriage with his lovely bride. For about two 
years the princess seems to have continued in England ; but, 
in 1256, Prince Edward passed over with her to Bourdeaux, 
where she continued probably under the care of some of her 
relatives of France, or of her mother-in-law, till 1265 ; and 
while she there was completing her education, Edward was 
traveling and practicing knightly exercises. We find Prince 
Edward, then in his twenty-second year, distinguishing him- 
self at jousts and tournaments at the different European courts ; 
nor was it long afterwards that the fierce struggle between his 
father and the barons recalled him to England to discharge his 
filial duties, and to take a prominent part in the sanguinary 
fray. In 1265, Edward met his wife at Dover, where she landed, 
under the care of his mother, from France. When Edward 
pressed the cheek of his bride, she was still a mere child, and 
he himself was unknown to fame. When they now met, she 
stood before him in the full bloom of beauty and womanhood ; 
nor, on his part, had he rendered himself undeserving of the 
fair hand and affectionate heart which he came to claim. Since 
they had last parted, he had earned for himself undying laurels. 
Young as he was, he had won the reputation of an accomplished 



ELEANOR OF CASTILLE. 103 

warrior ; and he now stood before her — worthy even of the love 
of Eleanor of Castile — in the proud light of the restorer of 
his father's rights — the champion of his haughty race — the 
gallant victor of Evesham ! 

The events which had taken place in the interval between 
their separation and reunion may be related in a few words. 
On his arrival in England, the young prince had the misfortune 
of finding his father a mere cipher in the hands of the "twenty- 
four barons," who had usurped the sovereign power, and who, 
having formed an association among themselves, had sworn 
to stand steadfastly by each other at the hazard of their lives 
and fortunes. So absolute was their power that Edward found 
himself compelled to take the famous oath, — which was likewise 
imposed on all the king's subjects under penalty of being de- 
clared public enemies, — that he would obey and execute all the 
regulations, both known and unknown, of the twenty-four 
barons; and all this, as it was jesuitically stated, for the greater 
glory of God — the honor of the church — the service of the 
king — and the advantage of the kingdom. 

In proportion, however, to their continuance in power, the 
barons began gradually to lose that popularity to which they 
owed their rise. It became but too evident that, in investing 
themselves with the sovereign power, their object was far less 
the reformation of the state than the aggrandizement of them- 
selves and their families ; and, moreover, their power being 
daily weakened by their own intestine jealousies and animosi- 
ties, the young prince, determined to seize the first opportunity 
of striking a bold stroke, which he hoped would restore his 
father to the authority which they had usurped from him. 
Fortunately, the pope was as little satisfied with the conduct of 
the twenty-four barons in ecclesiastical affairs as were the 
people of England themselves ; and accordingly, with little 
difficulty, he was prevailed upon to absolve the prince, as well 
as the whole of the king's subjects, from the oath of obedience 
which they had taken to the barons. 

Thus once more left a free agent, Edward took off the mask, 
and boldly challenged the authority of the barons. The result 
is well known. The horrors of civil war were again renewed, 
and, after a variety of successes, disasters, and negotiations — 
in which fortune, as usual, shifted her smiles from one side to 
the other — the two opposing armies met on the memorable field 
of Evesham ; the royal forces being commanded by Prince 



104 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Edward, and those of the barons by the celebrated Simon de 
Montfort, Earl of Leicester. 

This nobleman had encamped his army at Evesham, where 
he was anxiously expecting the arrival of his son, Simon de 
Montfort, to whom he had sent directions to hasten to him 
by forced marches, with all the troops he could render available. 
Accordingly, De Montfort was hurrying to the relief of his 
father, when, at Kenil worth, he was suddenly surprised and 
attacked in his camp by Prince Edward, who he had imagined 
was directing his whole force and attention against the Earl of 
Leicester at Ever-ham. The success of the prince was complete ; 
the opposing army was scattered in all directions, and the Earl 
of Oxford, and several other noblemen, were taken prisoners, 
almost without a show of resistance. 

Edward lost no time in improving his advantage, and this 
by adopting a very ingenious stratagem. Without allowing 
Leicester time to glean intelligence of his son's disaster, he 
divided his troops into two bodies, one of which he pushed for- 
ward along the road leading from Kenilworth to Evesham, with 
orders to carry in front of them the banners captured from 
De Montfort's army. He himself made a circuit with the other 
division of his forces, with the intention of attacking the enemy 
in another quarter. Leicester, experienced and accomplished 
as he was in the art of war, was completely deceived and taken 
by surprise. Observing a large force advancing from the very 
quarter from which he was anxiously straining his eyes to 
behold the approach of his son — perceiving, also, the friendly 
banners, the sight of which was so welcome to him — his only 
feelings were those of satisfaction at his orders having been 
so successfully and promptly obeyed. When at length the 
truth flashed upon him, and he perceived the great superiority 
and excellent disposition of the royalists, his first feeling seems 
to have been admiration of the talent by which he was out- 
witted. They had learned, he said, the art of war from him ; 
and he added : "The Lord have mercy on our souls, for I see 
our bodies are the prince's!" The conflict lasted but a short 
time, and was attended with great slaughter. Leicester him- 
self, while in the act of asking for quarter, was slain in the heat 
of the action ; as were also his eldest son, Henry, Hugh le De- 
spencer, and about one hundred and sixty knights, and many 
other gentlemen. The old king, Henry the Third, who for some 
time has been a prisoner in the hands of the rebels, had been 



ELEANOR OF CASTILLE. 105 

purposely placed by them in front of the battle, and being com- 
pletely clad in armor, it was impossible for his friends to iden- 
tify him. In the heat of the action he received a wound, and 
would in all probability have been killed, had not he called out — 
U I am Henry of Winchester, your king!" Fortunately, his 
voice was recognized by his friends, and his gallant son having 
flown to his rescue, he was soon conducted to a place of safety. 

The battle of Evesham took place on the 12th of August, 
1265, and, t\vo months afterward, on the 29th of October, the 
young princess arrived in England with her mother-in-law, 
Eleanor of Provence. She landed at Dover, where she was 
received by her gallant lord, who conducted her not improbably 
to the same apartment in Dover Castle to which, exactly four 
hundred years afterwards, his unfortunate successor, Charles 
the First, led his fair bride, Henrietta Maria, after her arrival 
at Dover ; and where, "wrapping his arms around her, he kissed 
her with many kisses." From Dover, Edward escorted his 
bride to Canterbury, where they were entertained with great 
splendor by the archbishop. They then continued their progress 
to London, where the citizens celebrated their arrival with all 
kinds of pageants and rejoicings. Having, in the first instance, 
been lodged in the priory of St. John's, near Smithfield, they 
afterwards took up their abode in the magnificent palace of the 
Savoy, in the Strand, which had recently been granted by 
Henry the Third to Peter of Savoy, uncle to his queen, Eleanor 
of Provence. The following year the young princess was deliv- 
ered of her first-born, John, at Windsor Castle. 

Much as the original character of Edward the First has been 
eulogized, the truth of history forbids us to represent him at 
this period' of his life as faultless. On the contrary, during his 
young wife's abode in France, his intrigue with the Duchess 
of Gloucester involved the whole court in broils and dissen- 
sions, which did not cease till 1270, when he and the princess 
left the court, to proceed to Palestine. 

Eleanor had been married about four years, when her warlike 
husband, panting to signalize himself once more in the field of 
arms, expressed his determination to take up the cross, and, 
with the aid of Louis, King of France (commonly known as 
St. Louis), to make a grand simultaneous effort to expel the 
infidels forever from the Holy Land. It was a campaign which 
threatened danger and death, in a variety of shapes, even to the 
strongest and boldest ; how little suited, therefore, was a young 



to6 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

and delicate princess, nurtured in the lap of luxury, to encounter 
its hardships, its horrors, and its fatigues ! So devoted, how- 
ever, was Eleanor to her fiery lord, so all-absorbing' was the 
attachment which she bore him, that she expressed her unalter- 
able determination to accompany him to the East, and to share 
the dangers which awaited him. In vain did her ladies endeavor 
to impress her with a sense of the folly and madness of the 
design. "Nothing," was her reply, "ought to part those whom 
God has joined; and the way from Syria to Heaven is as near, 
if not nearer, than from England or from my native Castile." 
The principal charm, indeed, in the character of Eleanor of 
Castile, was -that heroic devotion, which, losing sight of all 
selfish considerations, led her on every occasion to prefer death 
to absence from the object of her love. Whether the frail bark 
which contained her warlike lord was being tossed on the 
mountain wave among the Balearic Isles ;— ^whether he was 
daring death in the fierce struggles between the Crescent and 
the Cross, or among the fastnesses of the Welsh mountains ; — 
whether his toilsome march lay over the sultry and unhealthy 
plains of Palestine, or whether 

"Down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side 
He wound with toilsome march his long array;" 

in every danger, and in every clime, his gentle consort was cer- 
tain to be at his side. Wherever glittered the bristling spears of 
the warrior prince, there was ever to be seen, close by, the silken 
litter and the sweet smile of Eleanor of Castile. 

In 1270, Edward set sail from Portsmouth, with the intention 
of joining his consort at Bourdeaux, whither she had proceeded 
about a month previously. From Bourdeaux he sailed for 
Tunis, where, on reaching the camp of Lhe French king, he 
found Louis already dead from the unwholesomeness of the 
climate and the fatigues of the enterprise, and his army also 
greatly thinned by pestilence. Little discouraged, however, 
by these unlooked-for events, Edward continued his voyage 
with his consort to the Holy Land, where he greatly signalized 
himself ; putting the garrison of Nazareth to the sword, routing 
the Saracens who came to their rescue, again defeating them in 
a pitched battle at Cohone, in June, 1271, and, by various other 
acts of valor, reviving the glory of the English name in the 
East. 

So great was the terror which his name struck into the 
Saracens, that they at last came to the determination of em- 



ELEANOR OF CASTILLE. 107 

ploying a person to assassinate him. "The prince," says 
Daniel, "was dangerously wounded in three places of his body, 
with a poisoned knife, by a treacherous assassin, of which 
wounds, when no medicine could cure him, his loving wife, 
Queen Eleanor, extracting the poison by sucking them, per- 
fectly healed them." This story, it is to be feared, is more 
romantic than true. Edward, it seems, was one day lying on 
the couch in his tent, suffering from' the extreme heat of the 
climate, when a messenger sent to demand an interview with 
him, pretending that he came from the Emir of Joppa, who 
was anxious to become a convert to the Christian faith. The 
messenger, who was in truth an emissary of the famous Old 
Man of the Mountain, who kept a band of assassins, was admit- 
ted, and while Edward was in the act of reading a letter which 
the stranger had placed in his hands, the latter made a sudden 
plunge at the prince's heart with a poisoned poniard, but which 
Edward, perceiving his design, fortunately caught on his arm. 
The two were alone together at the time. Edward, in an in- 
stant, raised his foot, and felled the assassin to the ground with 
a kick on the breast. A fierce struggle ensued, in which the 
prince received another wound in the forehead. At this moment 
his attendants rushed into the tent, but before they had time 
to interfere, Edward had dispatched the assassin ; according 
to some accounts, by knocking his brains out with a stool ; 
according to others, by stabbing him with his own poniard. 

Although the wound in the prince's arm was apparently a 
trifling one, it was not long before unfavorable appearances 
presented themselves ; mortification threatened to ensue, and 
it was evident that his life was in the greatest danger. Hither- 
to, Eleanor had watched composedly by the bed-side of her sick 
husband, attending to his wants with that unwearying and 
tender care which was to be anticipated from the softness of her 
disposition and the devotedness of her love. When the truth, 
however, flashed upon her mind, — and when it was intimated 
to her that it was only by his undergoing a most painful sur- 
gical operation, that any hopes could be entertained of saving 
a life so precious to her, — she entirely lost her firmness and 
presence of mind in the anguish of her grief, and gave vent 
to a violent flood of tears. So entirely, indeed, was she over- 
Come by her feelings, that the prince's brother, Edmund, and 
his favorite knight, John De Vesci, — fearing that her sobs and 
tears might have a prejudicial effect on the sufferer, — bore her, 



iog THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

in spite of her struggles and entreaties, from the sick room. 
"It was better," they said, "that she should scream and cry, 
than that all England should mourn and lament." 

The surgical operation, a fact too well authenticated to 
leave any room for the romance of the princess sucking the 
poison from the wound, produced the desired effect, and 
not long afterwards — having signed a truce with the sultan — 
Edward proceeded to Sicily, where he was entertained with 
great magnificence by Charles of Anjou, king of that island. 
Here Eleanor received the news of the death of her eldest child, 
Prince John, whom she left, three years before, in the bloom 
of childish beauty. Shortly afterwards, another messenger 
arrived, with the tidings that the old king, Henry the Third, 
had breathed his last at St. Edmondsbury, and that Edward, 
without opposition, had been proclaimed King of England 
in his stead. 

Edward is said to have received the news of his first-born's 
death with great fortitude and composure ; but, on being in- 
formed that his father was no more, he was deeply affected. 
Not a little surprised at the very different manner in which he 
had received the intelligence of these two events, the King 
of Sicily asked him how it was that the death of an old man 
caused him so much anguish, whereas he had borne the loss 
of his promising child without shedding a tear. "The loss 
of infants," said Edward, "may be repaired by the same God 
that gave them ; but when a man has lost a good father, it is 
not in the course of nature for God to send him another." 

From Sicily, the king and his consort proceeded to Rome, 
where they were most hospitably entertained by Pope Gregory 
the Tenth, and from thence to Bordeaux, where they made 
a short stay. While at this place, they had a very narrow 
escape with their lives. "As the king and queen," says Daniel, 
"were talking together in their bed-chamber, a flash of light- 
ning- struck in at the window, passed by them, and killed two of 
their servants who were waiting upon them." From Bordeaux, 
Edward proceeded overland to Calais, signalizing himself at 
several tournaments during his progress, and on the 2d August, 
1273, arrived safely with his queen at Dover. During her 
absence from England, Eleanor had become the mother of two 
children ; the one, a daughter, born in Syria, styled, from the 
place of her birth, Joanna of Acre ; and the other a son, who 
was born in the town of Maine, in France, on the 23d of 
November, 1272. 



ELEANOR OF CASTILLE. 109 

The arrival of Edward in London was celebrated by the 
citizens with extraordinary splendor and rejoicings; the more 
affluent of the merchants showering gold and silver on the 
royal retinue, as they passed under their windows in Cheapside. 
The exterior of the houses in the principal streets were hung 
with tapestry, and the conduits flowed with the choicest wines. 
On the 19th of August, Edward and his beautiful queen were 
crowned in Westminster Abbey; the Archibshop of Canter- 
bury performing the ceremony, and Alexander, King of Scot- 
land, and all the principal nobility of both countries, taking a 
part in the ceremony, and afterward assembling at a magnifi- 
cent banquet in the great hall. "King Edward," we are told by 
an old writer, "was crowned and anointed as rightful heir of 
England, with much honor and worship, with his virtuous 
queen ; and after mass the king went to his palace to hold a 
royal .feast, among all the peers that had done him honor and 
worship. And when he was set at his meat, King Alexander of 
Scotland came to do him service, and to worship, and a hun- 
dred knights with him horsed and arrayed." Another old 
chronicler, Henry de Knyghton, informs us — "The King of 
Scotland was accompanied by a hundred knights on horseback, 
who, as soon as they had dismounted, turned their steeds loose 
for any one to catch and keep that thought proper. Then came 
Edmund, Earl of Cornwall, the king's nephew, and the Earls of 
Gloucester, Pembroke and Warenne, each having in their com- 
pany a hundred illustrious knights, wearing their lords' armor ; 
and when they had alighted from their palfreys, they also set 
them free, that whoever chose might take them unquestioned. 
And the aqueduct in Cheapside poured forth white wine and 
red, like water, for those who would to drink at pleasure." 

In 1227, when the Welsh flew to arms, and when Edward— 
not displeased with the opportunity of making his former con- 
quests in that principality absolute — assembled all his military 
tenants for the purpose of crushing that gallant people, Eleanor 
never for a moment hesitated to share his dangers and fatigues ; 
and, accordingly, we find her the companion of her warlike 
consort during all his campaigns. In 1283 she gave birth to her 
daughter, the Princess Isabella, in Rhuddan Castle, in Flint- 
shire ; and the following year, when she again promised to be- 
come a mother, Edward conducted her to the magnificent castle 
of Carnarvon, which he had recently built. 

The gateway in Carnarvon Castle through which the beau- 



no THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

tiful queen passed to the apartments which had been provided 
her is still known as Queen Eleanor's gate. For the purpose of 
rendering her more secure against any attack of the Welsh 
barons, she was lodged in the Eagle Tower, a building of vast 
height, and of extremely grand and imposing appearance. "It 
was an eyry," says Miss Strickland, "by no means too lofty for 
the securitv of the royal Eleanor and her expected infant, since 
most of the Snowdon barons still held out, and the rest of the 
principality were fiercely chafing at the English curb. This 
consideration justifies the tradition which points out a little 
dark den, built in the thickness of the walls, as the chamber 
where the faithful queen gave birth to her son Edward. The 
chamber is twelve feet in length and eight in breadth, and is 
fvithout fireplace. Its discomforts were somewhat modified by 
hangings of tapestry, of which some marks of tenters still ap- 
pear in the walls. Queen Eleanor was the first person who used 
tapestry as garniture for walls in England, and she never 
needed it more than iii her drearry lying-in chamber in Car- 
narvon Castle." The oaken cradle of the infant Edward — 
hung by rings and staples to two upright pieces of wood, of 
rude workmanship, but with considerable attempt at ornament 
• — is still preserved in Carnarvon Castle. It has rockers, and is 
crowned by two birds, probably either doves or eagles. 

The queen was confined on the 26th of April, 1284, at which 
period Edward was negotiating with the Welsh barons at Rhud- 
dlan Castle. He immediately hastened to Caernarvon, where, 
three days afterward he was waited upon by a vast assemblage 
of the Welsh, who came to tender him their allegiance, and to 
implore him to confer on them a prince who should be a native 
of Wales, and who should speak the same language as them- 
selves. Edward, without hesitation, promised to give them a 
prince of unexceptionable manners, a Welshman by birth, and 
one who could speak no other language. As soon as their ac- 
clamations of joy and promises of obedience had ceased, he 
ordered his infant son to be brought into the assembly, and, 
assuring them that he was a native of Wales, and that the first 
words he should be taught to speak should be Welsh, he pre- 
sented him to them as their prince. By the death of Alphonso, 
the king's eldest son, young Edward shortly afterward became 
heir to the English monarchy ; the principality of Wales was 
annexed to the crown, and from this period it has given a title 
to the eldest son of the king of England, The Welsh ever bore 



ELEANOR OF CASTILLE. 1 1 1 

an affection to the unfortunate Edward the Second ; partly 
from his having been born among them, and partly from his 
having been their nominal prince. During his worst misfor- 
tunes they ever remained true to him, and after his death be- 
wailed him in "lamentable songs." 

Shortly after the birth of her son, Eleanor removed to Con- 
way Castle, another of the magnificent structures erected by 
her husband in Wales. "Here," says Miss Strickland, "all the 
elegances of an age further advanced in luxury than is gener- 
ally supposed, were assembled round her. Many traces of her 
abode at Conway exist ; among others, her state bedchamber 
retains some richness of ornament ; it opens on a terrace com- 
manding a beautiful view. Leading from the chamber is an 
arched recess, called by tradition Queen Eleanor's oriel — 

"In her oriel there she was, 

Closed well with royal glass ; 
Filled it was with imag'ry, 
Every window by and bye." 

It is raised by steps from the floor, and beautifully adorned 
with painted glass windows. Here the Queen of England, dur- 
ing her levee on rising, sat to receive the ladies qualified to be 
presented to her, while her tirewomen combed and braided 
those long tresses which are the glory of a Spanish donna, and 
which her statues show Eleanor of Castile possessed." 

In 1290 the unsettled state of affairs in Scotland rendered it 
imperative on Edward to hasten to that country. He had not 
only affianced his son Edward of Caernarvon to Margaret, the 
infant Queen of Scotland, but he had sent the bishop of Dur- 
ham and his agents to take possession of that country in their 
joint names, when he heard of the death of the young queen on 
a voyage to Norway. He had left his beloved queen in good 
health, but scarcely had he reached the Borders when he was 
overtaken by a messenger, who informed him that Eleanor was 
lying dangerously ill at Herdly, near Grantham, in Lincoln- 
shire. Forgetting the necessities of state, and the dictates of 
ambition, in the dread of losing one so dear to him, Edward, 
turning his back on Scotland, hurried rapidly to Herdly; but 
before he arrived his faithful Eleanor had breathed her last. 

The grief of Edward at losing his queen is said to have been 
violent in the extreme ; and, indeed, the manner in which he 
solemnized her obsequies affords sufficient evidence of his ad- 
miration, his distress, and his love. During the thirteen days 



ii2 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

which the royal procession occupied in proceeding from Gran- 
tham to Westminster Abbey, the king never quitted the body, 
and in each town in which it rested caused it to be met by the 
ecclesiastics of the place, who carried it before the high altar 
of the cathedral or church, where they performed over it sol- 
emn requiems for the repose of the soul of the deceased. "The 
king," says Daniel, "in testimony of his great affection to her, 
and as memorials of her fidelity and virtues — in which she ex- 
celled all womankind as much as she did in dignity — all along 
the road in the places where the body rested, erected goodly 
crosses, engraven with her image." There were formerly thir- 
teen of these beautiful memorials, of which those of Northamp- 
ton and Waltham alone remain. The most celebrated of them 
— the work of Cavalini — was that at Charing Cross, so called 
from Edward's constantly calling his queen, ma chere reine — 
and this dear Queen's Cross stood nearly where the equestrian 
statue of Charles the First now stands. This interesting relic 
of a past age was unfortunately regarded by the fanatics as a 
relic of Popish superstition, and, in a moment of religious 
frenzy, was razed to the ground by an illiterate rabble. 

"To our nation," says Walsingham, "Queen Eleanor was a 
loving mother, the column and pillar of the whole realm ; there- 
fore, to her glory, the king her husband caused all those famous 
trophies to be erected wherever her noble corse did rest, for he 
loved her above all earthly creatures. She was a godly and 
modest princess, full of pity, and one that showed much favor 
to the English nation; ready to relieve every man's grief that 
sustained wrong, and to make them friends that were at dis- 
cord." Queen Eleanor died on the 29th of November, 1290, 
in the forty-seventh year of her age. 




'■ Que&i of tfdtfurd if* 



MARGUERITE OF FRANCE, 

SECOND QUEEN OF EDWARD THE FIRST. 

The disconsolate monarch, Edward the First, who passed 
the earlier period of his widowerhood in devising and exe- 
cuting the most splendid memorials of his beloved Eleanor, 
having left nothing undone that affection and grief could sug- 
gest to do honor to her memory, sunk from a state of restless 
and active affliction to one of the most profound and morbid 
melancholy. Accustomed for years to the fond companion- 
ship, the wise counsels, and the ready sympathy of the most 
faultless of wives, he pined in his lonely wretchedness ; and 
though actively engaged in the commencement of the war with 
Scotland, which, with little intermission, occupied the remain- 
ing years of his reign, nothing could drive from his heart the 
brooding sorrow that preyed upon him, until at last he turned 
his thoughts to a second marriage. 

Hearing much of the charms of Blanche, daughter of Philip 
le Hardi, the late, and sister of Philip le Bel, the present King 
of France, Edward sent ambassadors to ascertain whether the 
reputation she had acquired was merited, and with authority, if 
such were the case, to treat for her hand. The reports of her 
exquisite beauty being fully confirmed by those deputed to 
judge, Edward became so enamored of her yet unseen perfec- 
tions, that he entered upon the terms for the marriage with a 
haste and want of caution greatly out of keeping with his usual 
wise and thoughtful mode of proceeding. 

Philip le Bel, crafty and unprincipled, resolved to take ad- 
vantage of the anxiety of his brother-in-law elect to complete 
the match, and declared that before he would consent, Edward 
should settle the duchy of Guienne on any son he might have 
by Blanche, after which it was to descend to the heirs of this 
son, finally reverting to England in the event of a failure of 
issue in that line. To this the king agreed, and surrendered 

"3 



ii4 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the duchy to Philip according to the forms of feudal tenure. 
No sooner, however, was this done, than the faithless Philip 
refused to ratify the treaty. He persisted in retaining Guienne 
for himself ; and instead of his beautiful sister Blanche, for 
whom he now contemplated a marriage with the eldest son of 
the Emperor of Austria, substituted in the marriage-treaty 
with Edward the name of Marguerite, a younger sister, and at 
that time a child of but eleven years of age. 

A fierce war was the result of this breach of faith. The war 
lasted four years, and then pacific arrangements being made, 
the treaty of marriage was renewed, Marguerite having now 
attained a mors marriageable age. The Pope interfered as 
arbitrator ; Guienne was restored to the English king ; and, 
with fifteen thousand pounds as her portion, which it is sup- 
posed her faithless brother intended to appropriate to himself, 
Marguerite was married to Edward at Canterbury, September 
8th, 1299, when in her seventeenth year. 

Scarcely, however, were the nuptials celebrated, when the 
struggles of William Wallace to accomplish the freedom of 
Scotland, demanded Edward's presence there. Placing the 
young queen, therefore, in the royal apartments of the Tower, 
and giving strict commands that no one from the city, where 
the smallpox then raged, should be permitted to approach her, 
for fear of infection, he set out with his son on his northern 
expedition. 

The long-maintained struggle of Scotland against the Eng- 
lish sway being for the time ended, the conquering monarch 
proceeded to Dunfermline to spend the Christmas. During 
the earlier part of the campaign, Marguerite had followed her 
husband in his warlike progress, but when the state of affairs 
and her situation (for she was about to become a mother) ren- 
dered her doing so no longer safe, Edward placed her in a vil- 
lage called Brotherton, on the banks of the Wherfe, in York- 
shire. Here she gave birth to a son, Thomas Plantagenet, Earl 
of Norfolk, from whom is lineally descended the noble family 
of Howard. From Brotherton she removed to Cawood (or 
Ca worth) Castle, which was her principal residence, till sum- 
moned by Edward, in 1301, on the entire submission of Scot- 
land, to join him at Dunfermline. From thence, after the 
Christmas festivities, the royal pair proceeded to London in 
triumph, the king, in his passage, removing the courts of 
King's Bench and Exchequer thither from York, where they 



MARGUERITE OF FRANCE. 115 

had been holden for the preceding seven years, in order to be 
more within reach during the Scottish war. 

That nothing might be wanting to complete Edward's tri- 
umph, Wallace, the most formidable of all the leaders Scotland 
had opposed to him, was captured, sentenced, and executed, 
and his head and quarters distributed through the various parts 
of Scotland. 

In order to celebrate his victories, Edward now. prepared 
a magnificent tournament, which is said to have been the 
most splendid of those times. On this occasion Prince Edward 
was solemnly invested with the principality of Wales, and re- 
ceived the honor of knighthood. Many young nobles were also 
knighted on this occasion, and two of the king's granddaugh- 
ters betrothed. 

During the remainder of Edward's reign, Marguerite, who, 
strange to say, never was crowned, kept her court at West- 
minster, but the exhausted state of the exchequer prevented its 
being supported with any degree of splendor. In the year 1301, 
Marguerite gave birth to her second son, Edmund, afterwards 
created Earl of Kent by his half-brother, Edward the Second. 

Many are the instances recorded of this queen's using her 
influence with her husband to obtain forgiveness of debtors to 
the crown, and also of her excusing the payment of fines due 
to herself. It was by her intercession alone that Edward was 
induced to spare the life of Godfrey de Coigners, who had made 
the crown of gold for the coronation of Robert de Bruce, which, 
had been concealed till opportunity should arrive for its use. 
She saved the city of Winchester from the effects of the king's 
displeasure, and consequently was deservedly beloved there. 
In this city she gave birth to her third child, a daughter, called 
Eleanor after Edward's first queen. Marguerite's generosity 
and nobility of character were great, and so extensive were her 
charities that by far the greater portion of the large revenue 
apportioned to her was appropriated to the use of those who 
stood in need of assistance. In 1305, Blanche, Duchess of 
Austria, the beautiful sister of Queen Marguerite, died ; and 
prayers were commanded for her soul by King Edward, be- 
cause, as he said, "She was the dear sister of his beloved con- 
sort, Queen Marguerite." By this it may be inferred that 
Edward retained no malice toward Blanche, believing, no 
doubt, as was the general opinion, that the better sister of the 
two, if not the fairer, had fallen to his lot. 

But the peace which had seemed permanently established 



u6 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

by the downfall of Wallace was not doomed to be of long con- 
tinuance. Scotland was again in arms, and Robert Bruce was 
crowned king of Scotland in the abbey of Scone. 

Great was the wrath of Edward at learning these events. 
Without a moment's delay he assembled an army, and, previous 
to his taking the field himself, despatched his son and a chosen 
band of nobles to check the progress of Bruce. Aymer de 
Valence, Henry de Percy, and Robert de Clifford, who had 
preceded the prince, came upon the Scottish army, near Me- 
thuen, and attacked them so suddenly, that, though they made 
a vigorous resistance, they were compelled to fly, and Bruce's 
wife, daughter, and three brothers, were, among many other 
important persons, taken prisoners. This was the last victory 
achieved against the Scots by the great "Sire Edward." While 
on his way to join his army, he was attacked with a violent ill- 
ness^ at Burgh-on-the-Sands, and, feeling his end approaching, 
he summoned Prince Edward to receive his parting admonitions. 
In these he commanded "that he should carry his father's bones 
about with him in some coffin till he had marched through all 
Scotland and subdued all his enemies, for that none should be 
able to overcome him while his skeleton marched with him ;" 
that he should "love his brethren, Thomas and Edmund ; but 
especially treat with tenderness and respect his mother Queen 
Margaret." 

Shortly after this, while his servants were raising him up to 
■ take some refreshment, he expired in their arms. 

Of his person Carte gives us the following description : — 
"He was one of the goodliest personages that could be seen ; 
taller than most men, finely shaped, and well made ; a lively, 
piercing eye ; a manly beauty in his visage ; a majestic air, mixed 
with an indescribable sweetness a noble port ; an easy and en- 
gaging manner of address, which, without lessening his dignity, 
was full of goodness and condescension; an inimitable grace- 
fulness in his look, his speech, his gestures, and behavior ; in 
a word, all his exterior commanded reverence, and inspired at 
once affection and admiration." To this may be added, that 
he was seldom ill ; never lost his teeth, nor was his sight dimmed 
by age. He was temperate ; never wore his crown after his 
coronation, thinking it a burden, but going about in the plain 
garments of a citizen, excepting on festival days. 

Marguerite's grief for his death was as sincere as had been 
her affection. A curious record of this still exists in the docu- 
ment of John o'London, who was employed by the queen to 






MARGUERITE OF FRANCE. 117 

chronicle the heroic actions of her husband, and her own great 
sorrow for his loss. Her first appearance in public after his 
death was in obedience to his dying commands, in order that 
no time might be lost in fulfilling the treaty for the marriage of 
the Prince of Wales with Isabella of France, Marguerite's niece. 
She assisted at the nuptial ceremony at Boulogne ; after which 
she led a life of the utmost retirement, expending the greater 
part of her large dowry in charity and for the encouragement 
of art. 

Edward the Second seems fully to have carried out his 
father's wishes with regard to his step-mother, for he ever 
treated her with the utmost affection and respect. She died 
at Marlborough Castle, in 13 17, at the early age of thirty-six, 
and was buried at the Grey Friars' Church, before the altar 
in the choir, which she herself had built. 



ISABELLA OF FRANCE, . 

QUEEN OF EDWARD THE SECOND. 

Isabella stands darkly prominent in English history as the 
only queen who murdered her husband. Shakespeare has im- 
mortalized her infamous renown by the title of "She- wolf of 
France." Her character and name are thus, perhaps, more 
familiar to the public than those of any queen-consort in the 
British annals. Her early years gave evidence of levity, but 
it was only when her passions and her thirst of domination 
had acquired their full growth, that she stood forth in all the 
genuine horrors of her nature, and stamped herself as the true 
daughter of the cruel Philip le Bel. 

Isabella was the daughter of Philip le Bel, King of France, 
and Jane, Queen of Navarre. She was thus the offspring of two 
sovereigns in their own right ; and her three brothers, Louis* 
le Hutin, Philip le Long, and Charles le Bel, were successively 
kings of France. No queen-consort of England, therefore, 
came to the matrimonial throne with higher rank. She was 
born in the year 1295, and in 1303, when not yet quite nine years 
old, she was betrothed to Edward, Prince of Wales, the son 
of Edward the First. This betrothal took place in Paris, in 
presence of the King and Queen of France, the Count of Savoy 
and the Earl of Lincoln being the procurators on the part of 
the prince. Scarcely was Edward the First dead, when Edward 
of Carnarvon, now Edward the Second of England, was so 
impatient to complete his marriage with the fair young princess 
of France, still only in her fourteenth year, that before the 
funeral of the late king, his father, had taken place, he dis- 
patched the Bishops of Durham and Norwich, the Earls of 
Pembroke and Lincoln, to obtain an early appointment of the 
day of marriage. Such was the characteristic weakness of 
Edward, who never stopped to reflect where his inclinations 
were concerned, that on learning the proposed day of celebra- 

118 



ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 1 19 

tion of the nuptials at Boulogne, he at once assented to it, and 
hastened away from Scotland, where he was, and where his 
presence was imperatively necessary for fixing finally on his 
head the crown of that kingdom for which his father had sc 
long and sternly fought. 

He had already recalled his fatal favorite Gaveston, and even 
with the most astounding imprudence appointed him guardian 
of the realm in his absence. This done, he set sail at the very 
earliest possible hour, on January 22nd, 1308, with the queen 
dowager, Marguerite, for Boulogne. There, his bride, accom- 
panied by her royal parents and a more splendid assemblage of 
princes and nobles than had ever before been collected on such 
an occasion, had arrived before him. The next day, being the 
festival of the Conversion of St. Paul, the nuptials were cele- 
brated with unexampled magnificence in the celebrated cathe- 
dral of that city. Besides the King and Queen of France, the 
parents of the bride, there were present, Louis, King of Na- 
varre, the bride's brother, their mother having resigned that 
kingdom to his rule ; the King and Queen of the Romans, the 
King of Sicily, the Archduke of Austria, Marie, the Queen 
Dowager of France, and Marguerite, the Queen Dowager of 
England, the aunt, and now about to become the mother-in-law 
of the bride. 

The beauty of the royal pair is celebrated by the writers of 
the time, as filling all the spectators with admiration. Edward 
was regarded as the handsomest man in Europe, and Isabella, 
though still a mere girl, had by her beauty already won the 
name of Isabella the Fair. Flattering, however, as were all 
the externals of this scene — there lay inwardly all the elements 
of discontent, tempest, and ruin. The physical beauty of the 
young king concealed only a mind weak as water, and so con- 
stituted as to become the willing prey of aspiring and showy 
favorites ; that of Isabella, a soul full of tiger-passions, before 
which, honor, principle, and humanity were as stubble in the 
whirlwind. 

These ostensibly happy but doomed persons were married on 
the 25th of January, and on the 7th of February, after great 
festivities, they embarked for England, and landed at Dover the 
same day. 

■ Amongst those who waited to welcome the young couple 
to their kingdom, was the king's favorite, Piers Gaveston, whom 
Edward, the moment he saw him, flew to, and embraced in the 



120 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

most extravagant manner, calling him "brother." This scene 
was very disgusting to the queen and her uncles, the Counts of 
Valois and Evereux, who had accompanied her. Thus, at the 
moment when they set their feet on their kingdom, the seeds of 
all their future miseries and crimes were planted. The nobles, 
seeking an opportunity to ruin Gaveston, saw the occasion in 
the queen's unconcealed displeasure. As if to give them the 
fullest plea of folly against him, Edward bestowed the costly 
presents of jewels, rings, and other highly valuable articles 
which the King of France had sent him, and which the queen 
very justly regarded as part of her dowry, on Gaveston. Noth- 
ing could display a more ominous imbecility, or one more likely 
to incense a young and beautiful wife. But this was not the 
full measure of Edward's ridiculous weakness and impolicy in 
regard to his favorite. At the coronation, when the office of 
bearing St. Edward's crown before the king should have been 
given to one of the princes of the blood royal, to the astonish- 
ment of every one, and to the unconcealed indignation of the 
nobility, Gaveston was found fulfilling this high duty, while 
Henry of Lancaster bore the royal rod surmounted with the 
dove, and Thomas of Lancaster bore the Curtana, or sword of 
mercy. These were the king's near relatives, and the insult to 
them and to the whole assembly was the more felt by their 
being placed on a level with a man like Gaveston. 

But still more, Gaveston took upon himself to arrange all 
the ceremonies and routine of the coronation and its attendant 
festivities, and these were executed in so shameful a manner 
that there was a universal murmur. It was three o'clock before 
the coronation was over ; the dinner hour .was delayed till it 
was quite dark, and the hungry courtiers were excited to a 
high degree of wrath. When the viands did appear, they were 
so vilely cooked and so clumsily served, there was such a 
paucity of officers for the occasion, and they were running one 
against another in such a way, that all was confusion, disap- 
pointment, and scandal. Owing to the wretchedness of the 
arrangements, there were numerous accidents through the day, 
which cast a gloom on the general spirit ; and one knight, Sir 
John Bakewell, was actually trodden to death. The queen 
received many slights, which she regarded, and probably was 
incited to believe, as studied. 

The French nobles returned home swelling with the ill- 
feeling produced by these circumstances, and loud in resent- 




6eUa>s <r/ eflrt 



/ 



ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 121 

meht of the insults, as they regarded them, offered to their 
princess. The queen herself was not the less eloquent in her 
letter to her father on her own wrongs, and on the preposterous 
infatuation of the king in regard to Gaveston. All this was so 
much advantage thrown into the hands of the discontented 
aristocracy. The queen came young, beautiful, and surrounded 
by every evidence of royal splendor. She had two crowns of 
gold richly set with gems, robes of the most queenly richness, 
a magnificent array of gold and silver plate, including superb 
drinking-vessels, massive dishes, and fifty silver porringers. 
On the other hand, the weak Edward, instead of lavishing his 
attentions on his wife, flung everything with an insane prodig- 
ality into the lap of Gaveston. He had already so impoverished 
his treasury by his gifts to his favorite, that he had not a penny 
to pay the necessary expenses of his coronation, or the daily 
demands of his household. He was compelled to ask his nobles 
for supplies, and they were met by peremptory demands for the 
dismissal of his disgraceful favorite. The King of France 
placed himself in communication with the discontented aris- 
tocracy," and did all in his power to effect this really desirable 
object. Thomas Earl of Lancaster, and Henry Earl of Derby, 
were nearly as closely related to the queen as to the king him- 
self. They were the great heads of the disaffected party, and, 
threfore, entered into a close alliance with Isabella. They 
demanded that Gaveston should be banished beyond the seas ; 
and Edward, promising to comply, sent him to Ireland as its 
viceroy. This was an evasion of his word ; and the stinging 
speeches of Gaveston, who was not only endowed with a showy 
beauty, but a very keen and dangerous wit, only added intensity 
to the resentment of the nobles. The queen appealed to them 
for some provision of income, and the lords, finding that she 
was actually penniless by the improvidence of the king, settled 
upon her the revenues of Ponthieu and Montrieul. 

Gaveston very soon returned from Ireland ; but such was now 
the united power of the queen's party, that Edward was com- 
pelled again to dismiss him. This time he sent him to Guienne ; 
but gave him, at parting, not only all his own jewels, but all 
the trinkets which Isabella had presented to him at different 
times as tokens of affection. Gaveston remained absent till 
13 12, and during his absence there was a period of national 
tranquillity, the queen being strong in the public regard. On 
Gavestoir s return, she did not conceal from him her dislike, and 



122 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

- he, the haughty favorite, treated her in return with insult. 
From this time, one trait in Isabella's character became con- 
spicuous. No man ever excited her resentment who did not 
perish under its effect ; the king himself forming no exception 
to this fact. Isabella at this period lost the reputation of a 
gentle and a good woman, peculiarly humane and charitable 
to the poor. But she had marked Gaveston for destruction, 
and it rapidly came. The Earl of Lancaster put himself at the 
head of the disaffected nobility, who demanded, with arms in 
their hands, the final dismissal of Gaveston. The king fled 
with his favorite to Newcastle, taking the queen with him, 
and, hotly pursued by the victorious barons, they marched 
thence to Scarborough, leaving the queen to take care of her- 
self, who retired to Tynemouth. Edward left Gaveston in 
possession of the almost impregnable castle at Scarborough, 

"and hastened to levy forces in the midland counties. But 
Gaveston, apparently almost as weak as his monarch, soon 
suffered himself to fall into the hands of his enemies, who 
carried him near to Warwick, where they beheaded him at 
Blacklow hill. 

The death of Gaveston, and the birth of a prince, the after- 
wards famous Edward the Third, when the queen his mother 
was only in her eighteenth year, gave a period of repose and 
joy to the realm. This continued for about ten years, during 
the greater part of which, the queen becoming successively the 
mother of several children, so conducted herself as to win the 
highest good-will of the nation. Had she possessed a husband 
of a vigorous and virtuous character, it is probable that the 
worst parts of her nature would have lain dormant, and, from 
want of stimulus, have died out. But the feebleness and follies 
of her husband roused the darker passions of her soul, and, 
while the king involved himself in ruin, he gave occasion to 
the development of a criminality in her which has scarcely a 
parallel in history. The amiable mother, the acquiescent wife, 
the benevolent woman and queen, were by degrees metamor- 
phosed into the insatiate reveler in adulterous passion, the 
relentless female fiend of cruelty, and of infamy ostentatious 
and unabashed. 

Through the influence of Isabella, the barons, who had risen 
in arms, and put Gaveston to death, were eventually pardoned. 
But scarcely was this effected, when, with his incurable prone- 
ness to fix his affections on a favorite, the king had supplied 



ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 123 

the place of Gaveston with a young man by the name of 
Despenser. Hugh Despenser was accomplished, brave, and 
amiable. He was of an ancient descent, but poor, and a depend- 
ent of the. Earl of Lancaster. The earl himself had placed 
him about the court; — a fatal act, which ended in the earl's 
own destruction, that of the Despensers, of many other men, 
barons as well as commoners, and, finally, of the king himself. 

No sooner did the king see Despenser, than he became, as it 
were, bewitched by him. He married him to the daughter of 
the late Earl of Gloucester, gave him immense estates, and also 
heaped on the older Despenser, Hugh's father, patronage and 
property almost without limit. The barons conceived for the 
Despensers an intensity of hate and jealousy equal to that 
which they had borne to Gaveston. The Earl of Lancaster 
was the first to show hostility to his old follower. The nobles 
rose, burnt the castles of the Despensers, and demanded of the 
king their perpetual banishment. To this Edward was com- 
pelled to consent. 

But in 1 32 1 an incident occurred which produced the most 
extraordinary consequences. The queen, on a pilgrimage to 
the shrine of St. Thomas of Canterbury, was refused by Lady 
Badlesmere, the wife of the castellan, admittance to her own 
castle of Leeds, in Kent. Badlesmere was absent, but on hear- 
ing his wife's deed, approved and confirmed it. All the indig- 
nant fire of the queen's nature was roused at this insult ; she 
complained vehemently to the king that she had been grossly 
insulted, and six of her royal escort slain by a volley of arrows 
from the castle walls. Edward was compelled to vindicate his 
own honor and that of the queen. The Londoners were fired 
with enthusiasm to revenge the injury of this popular queen, 
and the insolent Lady Badlesmere was speedily lodged close 
prisoner in the Tower, after having seen the seneschal of the 
castle, Walter Colepepper, and eleven of the garrison, hanged 
before its gates. 

But Badlesmere was one of the associated barons who had 
compelled Edward to banish the Despensers ; therefore the 
barons, and the Earl of Lancaster at their head, before so 
prompt in their zeal for the queen, now lay still, and took no 
part in the demonstration against the Badlesmeres. The queen 
was piqued ; and, fatally for all parties, she urged the king to 
employ the force, which he had cr.ceessfully used against the 
Badlesmeres, to put down the baronial faction. This produced 



124 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

unforeseen results. The queen not only lost the favor of the 
barons, but the Despensers, encouraged by the disgrace of 
these their powerful enemies, immediately re-appeared on the ? 
scene. The king, flushed with his success at Leeds Castle, and 
urged on by the spirit of vengeance in the Despensers, pursued 
the barons, defeated them in a battle at Boroughbridge, took 
Lancaster, with ninety-five of his followers, and beheaded him 
at Pontefract. 

The queen, during this warfare, took refuge in the Tower 
of London ; and here the crowning circumstance of her fate 
curiously took place. Roger Mortimer, a daring chief of the 
Welsh border, was a prisoner in the Tower, under sentence of 
death, for his attack on the estates of the Despensers before 
their banishment. Probably the queen's hatred of the Des- 
pensers was the first cause which gave the handsome and 
unprincipled Mortimer access to the presence of the queen, 
who, so fortunately for him, had thus taken up her abode in the 
Tower. But his own attractions in the eyes of Isabella, no 
doubt, speedily completed that blind passion in his favor which, 
from this moment, reigned in the heart of the queen. By her 
means he received at Christmas a reprieve ; and, though he was 
convicted in the following year, 1323, of a treasonable plan of 
seizing not only the Tower, but Windsor and Wallingford, 
he yet, once more, was respited from death through the means 
of the queen's staunch adherents, Adam Orleton, and Beck, 
Bishop of Durham, and contrived to make his escape from 
prison, no doubt by aid out of the same quarter. He succeeded 
in reaching France ; and, once safe, the besotted queen went to 
work with redoubled zeal for the destruction of his enemies, 
and the accomplishment of the scheme which they had unques- 
tionably planned together. 

She made a direct and open attack upon the Despensers, her 
own enemies and Mortimer's. She declared the Earl of Lan- 
caster, who had fallen the victim of her own vengeance, to 
be a saint and martyr, sacrificed to the hatred of the Despensers. 
The Despensers, with a hearty return of ill-will, induced the 
king to deprive Isabella of her revenues. She complained to 
her brother, Charles le Bel, King of France ; Charles threat- 
ened to seize on all the British provinces in France, and then 
Isabella artfully proposed to go out as a mediatrix between her 
husband and brother. The ruse was successful. She escaped 
thus to France, where she soon induced the weak kinsr to allow 



ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 125 

her eldest son, Edward, Prince of Wales, to join her. This 
done, she threw off the mask, openly maintained the most scan- 
dalous connection with Mortimer, and refused to return to 
England, notwithstanding the earnest entreaties of her husband. 

Edward's letters to her, to her son, and to his royal brother- 
in-law at this time were of the most earnest and, in themselves, 
really reasonable character. But his close alliance with the 
Despensers was against him, and this afforded a most unan- 
swerable plea to the queen. She demanded their dismissal ; 
declared that she dared not trust herself within their reach ; 
that the king himself could afford her no protection against 
them; that they openly disregarded his most positive com- 
mands ; and that they only wanted to secure her in order to 
put her to death. With this valid plea against her husband, 
a plea fully sanctioned by the contempt of the nation for the 
king's weak slavery to his favorite, Isabella not only continued 
to set at defiance the entreaties of Edward to return, but 
entered into marriage arrangements for her son, of a nature 
most utterly opposed to Edward's wishes. He himself was 
engaged in a double treaty, for the marriage of Prince Edward 
with the Infanta Eleonora of Arragon, and of his eldest daugh- 
ter, the Princess Eleanor, to the young King of Arragon. Isa- 
bella, however, regardless of the king's honor, and caring for 
nothing but those iniquitous plans which she had now matured 
with Mortimer for the deposition of the king her husband, 
sought to contract Edward to a daughter of the Count of 
Hainault, whose wife was Isabella's first cousin. This alliance 
she eventually accomplished. 

But Isabella's conduct was become so flagrant, that all France 
resounded with it. The king, her brother, urged by the plain 
and solemn remonstrances of the King of England, and dis- 
gusted with Isabella's shameless behavior, now ordered her to 
quit his kingdom and return to her husband, or he would make 
her return with shame. On this the guilty Isabella fled to 
Hainault, carrying her son Edward with her, and there threw 
herself, like the distressed queen of romance, on the protection 
and aid of that court. She was conducted to Valenciennes, in 
great state, and there feasted for eight days, with much honor, 
when the Count's brother, Sir John of Hainault, vowed to 
become her champion against all her enemies. Amid his chiv- 
alrous vows, the valiant knight did not conceal it from his 
brother the Count, that he thought it a fine opportunity for 



126 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

making his fortune. He declared that he "believed God had 
inspired him with a desire for this enterprise for his advance- 
ment." 

An armament soon collected at Dort, and on the 25th of 
September, 1326, the queen embarked, accompanied by Sir John 
Hainault, as commander of the forces, and Roger Mortimer, 
as commander of her English partisans. Her army consisted 
of 2,757 soldiers. Henry of Lancaster, and many other lords 
and knights, forgetting her offenses against them in their still 
deeper hatred to. the Despensers, flocked to her standard. The 
infamy of the queen, so notorious in France, was still unknown 
to the mass of the people on this side of the Channel. Their 
belief in her being an injured and persecuted queen and woman, 
blinded them in all attempts to unveil her real character, and 
from all sides streamed multitudes to her aid. Every Planta- 
genet in the kingdom deserted the king and united in her 
support. The king, in consternation, proscribed all who had 
apppeared in arms against him, and offered a thousand pounds 
for the Earl of Mortimer. Isabella replied by offering two 
thousand for the head of young Despenser. 

The affrighted king fled to Bristol. The queen and all her 
forces went in brisk pursuit. The Londoners rose, and, in the 
queen's name, seized on the Tower, and put to death the Bishop 
of Exeter, whom the king had left in it ; and named the king's 
boy- son, John of Eltham, Keeper of the city. 

From Bristol the king fled in a boat for the Welsh shore, 
after seeing the elder Despenser executed before the walls 
with unheard-of barbarities. But, driven by a storm to the coast 
of Glamorganshire, Despenser and Baldrock, Bishop of Nor- 
wich, his companions, were seized in the woods of Llantressan ; 
and Edward, helpless and hopeless, immediately surrendered 
himself, and was led in triumph to the queen, and delivered to 
her as her prisoner. 

The hour was now come which was to display the full ma- 
lignity of Isabella's nature. She had reached the object of her 
ambition. Power was in her hands, and she indulged in its 
exercise with a regardlessness of honor, nature, or feeling, 
which stripped the bandage from the eyes of her deluded sub- 
jects, and showed her as she was — a monster of cruelty and vice 
in the shape of a lovely woman. 

Isabella set forward towards London, leading her husband, 
a despised and degraded captive, in her train. His favorite, 



ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 127 

Hugh Despenser, having witnessed from the walls of Bristol 
the dreadful death of his father, lost all spirit ; and being tied, 
by order of Sir Thomas Wager, the Marshal of the queen's 
army, upon the back of the least and most sorry steed that 
could be found, was thus led, clothed in his dress of state, with 
the arms of Gloucester emblazoned upon his tabard, and with 
trumpets and cymbals sounding before him, an object of deri- 
sion, through all the towns till they reached Hereford. There, 
nearly dead with grief, shame, and starvation — for he refused 
to eat, lest he should live till they reached London — he was 
executed. 

Mortimer now paraded before the public eye the favors of 
his royal mistress, and indulged his thirst for blood in the 
execution of his enemies. The Earl of Arundel had already 
been executed, with two other conspicuous persons, at Here- 
ford. When the queen arrived in London, vast crowds passed 
out to meet and welcome her. She was attended by a huge 
body of troops and followers, and accompanied by her knight- 
errant, John of Hainault, and her paramour, Mortimer. A 
parliament was held on the 15th of December, in which the 
king was formally deposed, and his son proclaimed instead, by 
the title of Edward the Third. 

The wretched king had already been compelled to resign 
the great seal to the delegate of the queen, Adam Orleton, the 
unprincipled Bishop of Hereford. This done, commissioners 
were sent to Kenilworth Castle, where the king was confined, 
with this base bishop and ready tool of Isabella at their head ; 
and here the king was compelled, under the vilest insults and 
abuse from Orleton, to strip himself of his regalia, which he 
did in much agony and prostration of mind. The young king 
was crowned at Westminster during Christmas, 1326. Sir 
John of Hainault was granted an annuity of four hundred 
marks, and, after much feasting, took his leave. 

Parliament appointed a regency of twelve peers and pre- 
lates, for the guardianship of the youthful sovereign and the 
nation ; but Isabella, Mortimer and Bishop Orleton, seized on 
creature, Bishop Orleton, seized on the reins of government, 
and acted as they pleased. 

From this time forward, the path of Isabella was one steep 
descent into crime and eternal infamy. The Scots, who had 
found an opponent in Edward the Second very different from 
his father, who had been a thorn in their side all his days, now 



128 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

thought it a fair opportunity to make an inroad. Young Ed- 
ward marched boldly against them, leaving Isabella and Morti- 
mer to enjoy the power at home. 

That power was employed to perpetrate one of the blackest 
deeds in history. The poor captive king continued to implore 
the queen, in most moving letters, that he might be permitted 
to see her and his son ; but no feeling of compassion could now 
touch that savage heart. Learning that the Earl .of Lancaster 
had become softened by the situation of his late monarch, and 
inclined to treat him with kindness, she removed him from 
Kenilworth, and gave him into the hands of Sir John Mal- 
travers. Sir John, a hardened tool, put him under the control 
of two humbler, if not baser tools. These fellows, Gurney 
and Ogle, conducted him, by night journeys, in thin clothing. 
and suffering intensely from the cold, to Corfe Castle, thence 
to Bristol, and thence, again, for fear of the public, to Berkeley 
Castle. These monsters employed the most refined cruelties to 
torture their unhappy, deposed sovereign. They deprived him 
of sleep, crowned him with hay in derision and shaved him in 
an open field with muddy water from a ditch. One dark night, 
towards the end of September, they completed their devilish 
work, by scorching his intestines with a hot iron. His piercing 
shrieks and screams of anguish startled numbers in the neigh- 
boring town from their sleep ; "and," says Holinshed, "they 
prayed heartily to God to receive his soul, for they understood 
by those cries what the matter meant." 

This fiend-like act completely rent away the hearts of the 
people from Isabella. They now contemplated with disgust and 
indignation the conduct of herself and her parmour, Mortimer ; 
and, as if resolved to defy public opinion to the utmost, while 
the murdered king was interred, without any ceremony, in the 
Cathedral of Gloucester, the queen hastened to celebrate, with 
great festivities, the marriage of her son and his Hainault 
bride. She concluded, also, a treaty with Scotland, selling, for 
twenty thousand pounds (which Mortimer pocketed), those 
claims over that kingdom for which the two last kings had 
shed so much blood. She, moreover, contracted her daughter, 
the Princess Joanna, a child of five years of age, to the heir of 
the Scottish throne, then about ten years old; and herself and 
Mortimer journeyed to Berwick with the infant princess, to 
attend the nuptial ceremony. 

The queen and her paramour had now become so accustomed 
to the taste of blood, that it seemed difficult to satisfv their 



ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 129 

appetite for it. The Earl of Lancaster, her own uncle, and 
the two brothers of the late king, Thomas of Brotherton and 
the Earl of Kent, who had deserted the council chamber, and 
withdrawn in grief and indignation from all intercourse with 
the queen and Mortimer since the king's death were soon 
marked out for destruction. The Earl of Kent was seized and 
executed at Winchester, where the terror of thus shedding inno- 
cent and royal blood was so great the executioner stole 
away from his office, and the unhappy duke was left standing 
on the scaffold from noon till five in the afternoon, before any 
one could be found to perform the odious deed. It was at 
length done by a condemned felon, on receiving his pardon for 
the act. 

Before, however, the other victims could be reached, the 
terrible career of this wicked woman was arrested. Her para- 
mour Mortimer had assumed such princely state, and bore him- 
self with such insolence, that even his own son called him "the 
King of Folly." He had been created Earl of March, and kept 
a retinue like a monarch. The nobility became incensed beyond 
endurance at his arrogance, and at the infamous crimes in 
which he was daily indulging with the abandoned queen. They 
opened the eyes of the gallant young king to the dishonor 
which his mother was bringing on him. A parliament was 
summoned to meet at Nottingham, when Edward, entering b> 
a subterranean passage, the castle in which Isabella' and Morti- 
mer were lodged, seized Mortimer, and had him conveyed to the 
Tower in London, whence, a few hours after his arrival, he 
was conducted to Tyburn, and hanged, being the first criminal 
that suffered on that notorious gallows. 

Edward confined his sanguinary and vicious mother in Castle 
Rising, in Norfolk, where he sometimes visited her. She was 
in her six-and-thirtieth year when she entered her prison, and 
she continued there till she was sixty-three, suffering a cap- 
tivity of twenty-seven years. Such was in her "the ruling 
passion strong in death," that she chose to be buried in Grey 
Friars' Church, Newgate, London, by the side of Mortimer, 
and such her disgusting dissimulation, that she ordered the 
heart of her murdered husband to be laid on her breast. 

Thus ended the strange, and for the greater part of her life, 
the revolting career of this "She- Wolf of France." Besides 
Edward the Third, Isabella had three other children by Edward 
the Second, John of Eltham, and the Princesses Eleanor and 
Joanna. 



PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT, 

CONSORT OF EDWARD THE THIRD. 

Hainau — or, as we usually spell it, Hainault — had the honor 
of giving birth to one of the best queens-consort which England 
ever possessed. She was the daughter of William the Third, 
surnamed the Good, Count of Hainau and Holland. Her 
mother was Jane of Valois, daughter of Charles of France, 
Count de Valois, and sister of that Philip of Valois to whom 
Edward subsequently proved so injurious an antagonist. Dur- 
ing, therefore, all the long warfare which occurred between 
France and England, prior to the year 1350, Philippa could 
never see a husband triumph but at the expense of an uncle. 
After that period, the monarch who succeeded to the throne 
was, in one degree, less closely allied to her ; yet in the captive, 
John the Good, she possessed a cousin-german. In those days, 
however, when the most abominable violations of the claims 
of the closest consanguinity were wilfully practiced with a 
frequency which rendered mankind habituated to the contem- 
plation of them, Philippa probably did not find her conscience 
much burdened by her husband's infraction of her own ties 
of lineage. 

Edward's iniquitous mother, Isabella of France, was, for her 
own selfish and wicked purposes, the origin of his marriage 
with Philippa. When this vile woman, or she-wolf, as she was 
called, quitted England, in order to organize on the continent a 
conspiracy for the subversion of her weak and unfortunate 
husband from his throne, she cared little at what price, or at 
whose cost and sacrifice, she obtained countenance and coadju- 
tors. For this purpose, one of her first expedients was to 
affiance her son Edward, then a boy whose age was less than 
fifteen years, to the daughter of any powerful nobleman who 
would abet her bad cause. The ally she required she found in 

I JO 



PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT. 131 

William the Good. Edward at an early age had taken refuge 
at the court of Hainault with his mother, and there a mutual 
attachment sprung up between Philippa and himself ; and thus 
by a strange dispensation of fortune, the vices of the mother 
were the instruments for providing the son with a virtuous, 
rational, active and affectionate wife. 

But though the betrothal took- place at Valenciennes in 
October, 1327, the marriage did not occur until Janu- 
ary, 1328, at York. At this period he was still under the 
domination of his mother and the infamous Mortimer, who 
appropriated to themselves all the power and the revenues of 
the state. With little pomp, therefore, his union must have 
been celebrated, had not his bride, who was the daughter of 
one of the richest princes of that time, arrived in England with 
a splendid retinue and all the other accessories of opulence. 
Thanks, therefore, to this assistance, and to the attendance of 
many of the nobility, the ceremony of the marriage was per- 
formed with a decent parade. Thus, from the very beginning 
of his life until the end, one of the most prominent features in 
the career of this redoubted conqueror was his poverty. In 
vain he appears to have strained acts, and to have violated acts ; 
to have systematized plunder under the title of purveyance ; 
to have infringed all the rights of property, and all the few 
privileges which the subjects then possessed; to have taxed, 
traded, begged, borrowed, stolen, and even pawned his own 
person to his creditors — still the mighty Edward and his hungry 
court seem always to have been half-clothed and half-fed. 

For nearly two years after his marriage, Edward still re- 
mained under the sinister influence of Isabella and Mortimer. 
But in the autumn of 1330 he undertook one of those enter- 
prises which excite in its favor the interest and sympathy of 
every reader. Being as he was, not yet eighteen, he resolved 
to rid himself of the pernicious control of his vicious mother 
and her usurping and detestable paramour ; when he, the sov- 
ereign, to obtain this end, was compelled to work as secretly 
and darkly as if he had been some fell conspirator seeking to 
destroy the_ rightful occupant of the throne. With so much 
prudence did he mature his plans, and with so much spirit 
execute them, that the blow fell on the base Mortimer like a 
thunderbolt ; and without even the power to attempt resistance, 
he was made a prisoner in Nottingham Castle. But then the 
.lawless disposition of Edward evinced itself; for prompted 



132 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

equally by impatience and his despotic tendency, he contrived 
to do that which might have appeared to have been imprac- 
ticable — that is, he actually succeeded in having Mortimer 
the murderer, the traitor, the perpetrator of every crime most 
meriting capital punishment doomed to death informally and 
unjustly. No witnesses were called for his inculpation or de- 
fense; in fact, no trial was allowed him; but his judges, receiv- 
ing as sufficient evidence against him the unbounded notoriety 
of his misdeeds, sentenced him to be hanged. Being thus rid 
of Mortimer, this gallant and gifted youth suppressed the rob- 
bers and marauders that infested the country to an insufferable 
extent. This done, he turned his energies and armies upon 
Scotland, espousing the cause of Baliol against David Bruce. 

Five years were thus consumed in ineffectual wars, during 
which Philippa is stated by her biographers to have been far 
more profitably employed. In the first instance, she was en- 
gaged in strengthening the throne by augmenting the dynasty. 
The famous Black Prince was born on the 15th of June, 1330, 
at Woodstock; in 1334, the Princess Elizabeth was born; in 
1335, the Princess Jane; and in 1336, at Tickhill, in Yorkshire, 
William of Hatfield, as the child, by some strange and unex- 
plained reason, is designated, first saw the light. 

But, in addition to these services to the House of Plantagenet, 
Philippa was still more importantly occupied in benefiting the 
nation ; for to her it is asserted that we owe the establishment 
of our cloth manufacturers in England. Among Rymer's 
Fcedera is preserved a letter, dated July 3, 1331, addressed to 
John Kempe, of Flanders, cloth-weaver in wool; by which 
he is informed "that if he will come to England with the 
servants and apprentices of his mystery, and with his goods 
and chattels, and with any dyers and fullers who may be in- 
clined willingly to accompany him beyond the seas, and increase 
their mysteries in the kingdom of England, they shall have 
letters of protection, and assistance in their settlement." 

To this statement Miss Agnes Strickland adds : "Philippa 
occasionally visited Kempe and the rest of her colony in Nor- 
wich ; nor did she disdain to blend all the magnificence of 
chivalry with her patronage of the productive arts. Like a 
beneficent queen of the hive, she cherished and protected the 
working bees. At a period of her life which, in common char- 
acters, is considered girlhood, she had enriched one of the cities 
of the realm by her statistical wisdom. There was wisdom. 



PHILIPPA OF HA1NAULT. . 133 

likewise, in the grand tournaments she held at Norwich, which 
might be considered as exhibitions showing" the citizens how 
well, in time of need, they could be protected by a gallant 
nobility. These festivals displayed the defensive class and the 
productive class in admirable union and beneficial intercourse ; 
while the example of the queen promoted mutual respect be- 
tween them. Edward the Third did not often take part in 
these visits to Norwich, which were generally paid by the queen 
while her husband spent some days with his guilty and miser- 
able mother at Castle Rising, in Norfolk — a strong proof that he 
did not consider Isabella a fit companion for his Philippa. 

"It is likely that the establishment of the Flemish artists in 
England had some connection with the visit that Jeanne of 
Valois, Countess of Hainault, paid to her royal daughter in the 
autumn of 1331. The mother of Philippa was a wise and good 
woman, who loved peace, and who promoted the peaceful arts. 
During her sojourn in England, she further strengthened the 
beneficial alliance between England and the Low Countries, 
by negotiating a marriage between the king's sister, Eleanora, 
and the Duke of Gueldres, which was soon after celebrated." 

In 1333, Edward, while besieging Berwick, found his queen 
Philippa actually besieged by Douglas in Bambrough Castle ; 
and, exasperated at this, he carried on the war with such reck- 
less ferocity, that he not only soon relieved Bambrough, but 
added Berwick, by an act of bloody perfidy — the murder of 
the two young Seatons, sons of the Governor — permanently 
to the British Crown. 

At the period to which we have advanced (1337), occurred 
an incident which exercised so important an influence in the 
subsequent career of Edward and Philippa, that it must be nar- 
rated distinctly, though briefly. We refer to the claim pre- 
ferred by Edward to the throne of France — a long premeditated 
deed, which not only shaped his future course, but dispersed 
throughout the English nation the seeds of actions and passions 
which, even in this day, are not wholly extinct. 

Philip the Fourth of France, surnamed the Fair, who was the 
maternal grandfather of Edward, left three sons, each of whom, 
in his turn, reigned for a brief time ; their names were Louis 
le Hutin, Philip the Long, and Charles le Bel. The last of 
these kings, all of whom were uncles of Edward, died on the 
1st of February, 1328, leaving no sons, but two daughters. 
Thus was extinguished the direct male line of the elder branch 



134 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

of the Capets ; and from this failure Edward originated his claim 
to the throne of France, as the grandson of Philip the Fair. 
But the nephew of this sovereign pretended a prior right to it, 
in virtue of his male descent ; and he appealed to the Salique 
law to justify his demand. The nation admitted the validity of 
his plea, and Philip de Valois was crowned with universal 
assent. 

The ambitious and crafty Edward was then in a dilemma ; 
for if he recognized the Salique law, Philip must continue to 
reign ; and, if he disputed it, the daughters of his uncles took 
precedence of him. Now, as all together nearly half-a-dozen 
of them happened to exist, his chance of succession became 
wonderfully and almost invisibly attenuated, if he ever allowed 
any of his fair but unhappily multitudinous cousins to clutch the 
scepter. Had only one existed, he might perhaps have fancied 
that he could maintain her celibacy, and himself have lived in 
hope ; but the direful plurality made hope impossible. 

Nearly ten years elapsed before he could solve this difficulty. 
At length, in the year 1337, his ruminations gave birth to the 
paradox, that though the Salique .law operated to prevent a 
female from succeeding to the throne, it did not prevent her 
from transmitting the succession to a male heir; and, therefore, 
as son and representative of Isabella, daughter of Philip the 
Fair, he was now rightful king of France. This clumsy and 
audacious invention was the happiest expedient which even the 
ingenious Edward could find to fulfill the double purpose of ex- 
cluding both classes of his competitors, and of substantiating 
his own claims to the throne. Nothing can give a more forcible 
idea of the badness of his cause than the version which he em- 
ployed to enforce it. Yet so licentious and insensible was his 
ambition, that upon these preposterous pleas he plunged the two 
people into those furious wars which begot national antipathies, 
not yet extinct. 

In 1338 Edward crossed over into Flanders with his forces, 
preparatory to his invasion of France — an invasion which oc- 
cupied nearly all the life of this monarch, and did not cease till 
1374. These wars added much to the military fame and 
domestic exertions of England. During them the great victory 
of Crecy was achieved, and the Black Prince won his fame. 
But the portion which Queen Philippa had in them lies in a 
small compass, yet is fuller of true glory than all the exploits 
of her husband and son. 



PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT. I3S 

In less than two months after the battle of Crecy — that is, 
on the 17th of October — was fought the battle of Neville's 
Gross, in England. Froissart gives Queen Philippa the credit 
of this great victory over the Scots, and it is thus related by a 
modern historian : — "It was now Philippa's turn to do battle 
royal with a king. As a diversion in favor of France, David of 
Scotland advanced into England a fortnight after the battle of 
Crecy, and burned the suburbs of York. At this juncture, 
Philippa herself hastened to the relief of her northern subjects. 
Froissart has detailed with great spirit the brilliant conduct of 
the queen at this crisis : 'The Queen of England, who was very 
anxious to defend her kingdom, in order to show that she was 
in earnest about it, came herself to Newcastle-upon-Tyne. She 
took up her residence there, to wait for her forces. On the mor- 
row, the King of Scots, with full forty thousand men, advanced 
within three short miles of the town of Newcastle ; he sent to 
inform the queen, that if her men were willing to come forth 
from the town, he would wait and give them battle. Philippa 
answered, that she accepted his offer, and that her bairns would 
risk their lives for the realm of their lord their king.' 

"The queen's army drew up in order for battle at Neville's 
Cross. Philippa advanced among them mounted on her white 
charger, and entreating her men to do their duty well in de- 
fending the honor of their lord the king, and urged them for the 
love of God to fight manfully. They promised that they would 
acquit themselves loyally to the utmost of their power. The 
queen then took her leave of them, and recommended them to 
the care of God and St. George. 

"There is no vulgar personal bravado of the fighting woman 
in the character of Philippa. Her courage was wholly moral 
courage, and her feminine feelings of mercy and tenderness 
led her, when she had done all that a great queen could do by 
encouraging her army, to withdraw from the work of carnage, 
and pray for the invaded kingdom while the battle joined. 

"The English archers gained the battle, which was fought 
on the lands of Lord Neville. King David was taken prisoner 
on his homeward retreat, but not without making the most gal- 
lant resistance, which, Knighton says, was terrific, knowing the 
miseries which his captivity would cause his country. He 
dashed his gauntlet on his adversary's mouth when called on to 
surrender, and knocked out several of his teeth. Copeland, his 
captor, kept his temper, and succeeded in securing him alone. 



136 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

"When the Queen of England, who had tarried in Newcastle 
while the battle was fought, heard that her army had won the 
victory, she mounted on her white palfrey, and went to the 
battlefield. She was informed on the way that the King of 
Scots was the prisoner of a squire named John Copeland, who 
had rode off with him no one knew whither. The queen ordered 
him to be sought out, and told him that he had done that which 
was not agreeable to her, in carrying off her prisoner without 
leave. All the rest of the day the queen and her army remained 
on the battlefield they had won, and then returned to Newcastle 
for. the night. 

"Next day, Philippa wrote with her own hand to John Cope- 
land, commanding him to surrender the King of Scots to her. 
John answered in a manner most contumacious to the majesty 
then swaying the scepter of England with so much ability and 
glory. He replied to Philippa, that he would not give up his 
royal prisoner to woman or child, but only to his own lord, 
King Edward, to whom he had sworn allegiance. 

"The queen was greatly troubled at the obstinacy of this 
northern squire, and scarcely knew how to depend on the as- 
surance he added, bidding her knight tell the queen, that she 
might depend on his taking good care of King David. In this 
dilemma, Philippa wrote letters to the king her husband, wru«T 
she sent off directly to Calais. In these letters she informed 
him of the state of his kingdom. 

"The king then ordered John Copeland to come to him at 
Calais, who, having placed his prisoner in a strong castle in 
Northumberland, set out, and landed near Calais. When the 
King of England saw the squire, he took him by the hand, say- 
ing, 'Ha ! welcome my squire, who by thy valor hast captured 
my enemy the King of Scots.' 

"John Copeland fell on one knee, and replied, 'If God out of 
his great goodness has given me the King of Scotland, and 
permitted me to conquer him in arms, no one ought to be 
jealous of it ; for God can if he pleases send his grace to a poor 
squire as well as to a great lord. Sire, do not take it amiss, if 
I did not surrender King David to tl"u orders of my lady queen ; 
for I hold my lands of you, and not of her, and my oath is to 
you, and not to her, unless indeed through choice.' 

"King Edward answered : 'John, the loyal service you have 
done us, and our esteem for your valor is so great, that it may 
well serve you as an excuse, and shame fall on all those who bear 




Cm sort efZftvunl 3 f 



PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT. 137 

you any ill will. You will now return home, and take your 
prisoner the King of Scotland, and conv-ey him to my wife ; and 
by way of remuneration, I assign lands as near your house as 
you can choose them, to the amount of five hundred pounds 
a year, for you and your heirs.' John Copeland left Calais the 
third day after his arrival, and returned to England. When 
he was come home, he assembled h.is friends and neighbors, 
and, in company with them, took the King of Scots and carried 
him to York, where he presented him, in the name of King 
Edward, to Queen Philippa, and made such excuses that she 
was satisfied. 

"And great magnanimity did Philippa display in being con- 
tent with the happy result ; how many women would have borne 
an unextinguishable hatred to John Copeland for a far less 
offense than refusing obedience to a delegated scepter!"* 

In 1347 Edward was elected Emperor of Germany, but wisely 
declined the honor. In 1348 broke out the pestilence called the 
Black Death, which swept off vast numbers both in England 
and on the continent, and amongst the number the Princess 
Joanna, the daughter of Edward and Philippa, celebrated for 
her great beauty. She died at Bayonne, whither she had gone 
to meet Don Pedro of Spain, to whom she was betrothed. 

We have now briefly followed public events until the com- 
mencement of 1349; and it is time to give some domestic ac- 
count of Philippa. Her family largely increased; in 1338, Lio- 
nel, Duke of Clarence, was born ; in 1340, John of Gaunt, Duke 
of Lancaster; and between this period and 1347 she had four 
other children — Mary, who afterwards married the Duke of 
Brittany; William, who died in his youth; Edmund, Duke of 
York ; and Blanche. Nor have we the means of ascertaining at 
this moment the precise dates of the births of her youngest 
children, Margaret, who afterwards married the Earl of Pem- 
broke, and Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, but 
probably she had not been married very much less than thirty 
years when this her last son was born. 

Philippa's life was that of a thoroughly peaceful nature in 
the midst of endless strife. During the whole of her reign the 
temple of Janus was open ; and the adverse Fates and her fierce 
lord tied her to their chariot wheels, and dragged her ceaselessly 
through paths of war and desolation. But admirably does she 

*Miss Strickland's Lives of the Queens of England, vol. ii., p. 326. 



138 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

seem to have bent to this ungenial career ; and whenever a 
moment's pause could be obtained, there was Philippa's hand 
ever promptly ready to disseminate the useful virtues, and to 
promote and cultivate the general good. Hers was no visionary, 
fantastic mind, vainly and frivolously aspiring to imaginary 
and vapid excellences ; all that she did was real, substantial, 
and productive always of actual good, and frequently so 
permanent, that its effects have endured until our own times. 
In fact, she does not appear to have had in her disposition one 
spark of sentimental romance, but to have been prudent, affec- 
tionate, benevolent, active, generous, and signally endowed 
with the faculty of perceiving and advocating homely and 
beneficial truths. She was not, however, devoid of a sense of 
queenly state, or incapable of magnificence ; she was far from 
being ignoble or penurious ; yet even in her pageantries she 
had an eye to the public weal. Unlike the French signioral 
lady of the last century, who attempted to rejoice her retainers' 
hearts by supplying the prettiest of their children with spangled 
tunics, silk breechings, and wings of silver foil, Philippa's 
more prosaic philanthropy would have detected that the peasant 
parents of the spurious Cupidons had themselves not only an 
equally scanty clothing for a wintry climate, but also an in- 
sufficiency of fuel and sustenance. In fact, she was a judicious 
and benevolent princess, and a good and amiable woman. 

Froissart says of her last days : — "I must now speak of the 
death of the most courteous, liberal, and noble lady that ever 
reigned in her time, the Lady Philippa of Hainault, Queen of 
England. While her son, the Duke of Lancaster, was encamped 
in the valley of Tonneham, ready to give battle to the Duke of 
Burgundy, her death happened in England, to the infinite mis- 
fortune of King Edward, his children, and the whole kingdom. 
That excellent lady, the queen, who had done so much good, 
aiding all knights, ladies, arid damsels, when distressed, who 
had applied to her, lay at this time dangerously sick at Windsor 
Castle, and every day her disorder increased. 

"When the good queen perceived that her end approached, 
she called to the king, and extending her hand from under the 
bedclothes, put it into the hand of King Edward, who was op- 
pressed with sorrow, and thus spoke : 

" 'We have, my husband, enjoyed our long career in hap- 
piness, peace, and prosperity. But I entreat, before I depart, 
and we are forever separated in this world, that you will grant 
me these requests.' 



PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT. 139 

"King Edward, with sighs and tears, replied — 'Lady, name 
them; whatever be your requests, they shall be granted.' 

" 'My lord,' she said, 'I beg you will fulfill whatever engage- 
ments I have entered into with merchants for their wares, as 
well on this as on the other side of the sea ; I beseech you to 
fulfill whatever gifts or legacies I have made or left to churches 
wherein I have paid my devotions, and to all my servants, 
whether male or female ; and, when it shall please God to call 
you, choose no other sepulcher than mine, and that you will lie 
by my side in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey.' 

"The king in tears, replied— 'Lady, all this shall he done.' 

"Soon after, the good lady made the sign of the cross on her 
breast, and having recommended to the king her youngest son, 
Thomas, who was present, praying to God, she gave up her 
spirit, which I firmly believe was caught by holy angels, and 
carried to the glory of heaven, for she had never done anything, 
by thought or deed, to endanger her soul. 

"Thus died this admirable Queen of England, in the year of 
grace 1369, the vigil of the Assumption of the Virgin, the 14th 
of August." 

Our readers, we trust, will thank us for this extract ; for a 
picture of a more honorable, virtuous, affecting, and exemplary 
death bed, it would be difficult to find. 

The king lived but eight years after this deplorable event. 
He died on the 21st of June, 1377; and before him died, in fact, 
with Philippa, his happiness, his prosperity, and his respecta- 
bility as a man. Strife, intrigue, trouble, and disgrace reigned 
in that court where the noble Philippa had so long maintained 
harmony and a virtuous magnificence. 



ANNE OF BOHEMIA, 

FIRST QUEEN OF RICHARD THE SECOND. 

Anne of Bohemia was the daughter of the Emperor Charles 
the Fourth, and of his wife Elizabeth, daughter of Bolislas, 
duke of Pomerania, and was born at Prague in the year 1367. 
She was also sister to Sigismund, afterwards Emperor of Ger- 
many. Previous to her having been demanded in marriage 
during the minority of Richard, other alliances had been pro- 
posed and contemplated for the youthful monarch ; Katherine, 
daughter of the late Emperor Louis, and Katherine, daughter 
of the Duke of Milan, were the princesses in question. It 
seems, however, that the personal merits of Anne were con- 
sidered to outweigh all the advantages of these ladies ; for we 
are told by Speed that "King Richard tooke to wife the Lady 
Anne, daughter to the Emperour Charles the Fourth, and sister 
to Wenceslaus, king of Bohemia, called the Emperour, which 
lady, by the Duke of Tassill, was, in the name of her said father, 
formerly promised and assured unto him, as one whom the 
king did specially affect, though the daughter of Barnabus, 
duke of Millaine, was also offered, with a farre greater summe 
of gold" (1382). Indeed, so little was the king's pecuniary 
interest allowed to interfere in the match, that Carte informs 
us, that so far from Anne's bringing him a dowry, "a loan was 
made to Wenceslaus of 18,000 marks, a moiety whereof was to 
be remitted upon the delivery of his sister at Calais, according 
to the conventions." 

Sir Simon Burley, warden of the Cinque Ports, and constable 
of Dover — who is described as "one of the finest gentlemen 
in England, a man of excellent parts, great sweetness of temper, 
politeness and affability" — was intrusted to complete the treaty, 
and to conduct the Princess Anne to England ; where, after 
innumerable delays, difficulties, and dangers — owing partly to 
some French vessels which were cruising about between Hol- 

140 



ANNE OF BOHEMIA. 141 

land and Calais, with the intention, it was reported, of seizing 
upon the person of the princess, and partly to a violent ground- 
swell, which, rising at the moment she was about to embark, 
rent the ship in pieces — she arrived in safety. 

At this period Richard was sixteen ; Anne, a year younger. 
He is described as "the loveliest youth that the eye could be- 
hold/' singularly fond of splendor and magnificence, generous 
and munificent; "fair, and of a ruddy complexion, well made, 
finely shaped, somewhat taller than the middle size, and ex- 
tremely handsome." He had a lisp in his speech which would 
have "become a lady better, and an hastiness of temper, which 
subjected him to some inconveniences; but he had an infinite 
deal of good nature, great politeness, and a candor that could 
not be enough admired." 

But Richard had been brought up oy his mother and her 
sons in the most lavish indulgence, and in the most fatal ideas 
of his own importance. 

As to the person of the young queen, it is more difficult to 
form a correct notion ; she is repeatedly called "the beauteous 
aueen ;" but the portraits that exist of her do not give an idea 
of great loveliness. Her dress seems to have been more re- 
markable for singularity than for elegance or taste. Stow tells 
us that the female fashion of the day (which she introduced) 
was a high head dress, two feet high and as many wide, built 
of wire and pasteboard, and with piked horns, and a long train- 
ing gown ; it seems, however, that they occasionally wore hoods 
instead of these widespreading and monstrous coiffures, which 
must have been equally ridiculous and unbecoming. The 
Church denounced them as the "moony tire" mentioned by 
Ezekiel, and very possibly, as they were brought from the East 
by the Crusaders. Sidesaddles (more resembling pillions than 
the sidesaddles of the present day) were also brought into 
England by her ; and pins, such as are now in use, have been 
said to have been introduced by her, though pins were certainly 
common long before. 

Nothing could exceed the splendor that attended the royal 
bride's entrance into London ; she was met by the Goldsmiths' 
Company, splendidly attired. At the Fountain in Cheapside the 
citizens presented to her and to the king a gold crown, of great 
value each ; and when the procession had proceeded a little 
further, a table of gold, with a representation of the Trinity 
richly embossed or chased upon it — worth about ten thousand 



142 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

pounds of the present money — was offered to Richard, and to 
the queen a table of equal value, on which was displayed a 
figure of St. Anne. 

The marriage of the royal couple took place at the conclusion 
of the Christmas holidays. "Shee was," says Speed, "with 
great pompe and glorie at the same time crowned queene by the 
hand of William Courtney (a younger sonne of the Earle of 
Devonshire), Bishop of London, lately promoved from London 
to the see of Canterbury, at St. Stephen's Chapel, Westminster." 

Great were the rejoicings and splendid the festivities which 
followed these events, and tournaments were held for several 
successive days. It was at this period that the royal bride ob- 
tained the title of "good Queen Anne," for her intercession with 
Richard that a general pardon should be granted to the people, 
who since the rebellion of Wat Tyler had been subjected to con- 
tinual severities arid executions. 

Shortly after the marriage and coronation of the queen, 
parliament "which by this great ladie's arrivall was interrupted 
and prorogued," reassembled, the grant of a subsidy to defray 
the various expenses demanded, and "many things concerning 
the excesse of apparell," etc., "were wholesomely enacted,"* — 
with what advantage a few extracts will show. Holinshed 
mentions one coat belonging to the king which was so covered 
with gold and jewels as to cost the sum of thirty thousand 
marks ; while Sir John Arundel was thought even to surpass 
the king in his magnificence of attire, having no less than fifty- 
two rich suits of cloth-of-gold tissue. Camden tells us, that the 
commons "were besotted in excesse of apparell, in white sur- 
coates reaching to their loines ; some in a garment reaching 
to their heeles, close before, and strowting out on their sides, 
so that on the back they make men seeme women, and this they 
called, by a ridiculous name, gozvne; their hoods are little, tied 
under the chin, and buttoned like the woman's, but set with 
gold, silver, and precious stones ; their lirrepippesf reach to their 
heeles, all jagged. They have another weede of silke, which 
they call a paltock ;»J their hose are of two colors, or pied, with 
more; which, with latchets (which they call herlots), they tie 
to their paltocks, without any breeches. Their girdles are of 
gold and silver, some worth twenty marks ; their shoes and pat- 
tens are snouted and piked more than a finger long, crooking 



|: Speed. fTippets hanging down in front. J A close jacket. 



ANNE OF BOHEMIA. 143 

upwards, which they call cr.ack.owes, resembling the devil's 
clawes, which were fastened to the knees with chaines of gold 
and silver." 

There is no doubt but that Anne made use of her influence 
over the king to save the life of Wickliffe under the persecu- 
tions with which he was pursued ; and that the cause of the 
reformed religion was favored alike by her and by her mother- 
in-law Joanna, Princess of Wales, whose power over the yield- 
ing though impetuous nature of her son was so well employed 
in 1386, when civil war threatened to embroil the country, owing 
to a quarrel between the king and his uncle, the haughty and 
arrogant John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, who was informed 
that Richard intended to have him arrested and tried on some 
capital points before Sir Robert Trevilian, a man entirely in 
the monarch's interest. That there was some truth in the report 
is certain ; and that those about the king were most anxious to 
promote the arrest is not less positive. "Neverthelesse, the 
hopes of wicked men, delighting in their countrie's miseries 
and civill combustions, were made voide by the great diligence 
of the king's mother, the Princesse Joan, who spared not her 
continuall paines and expenses, in travailing betweene the king 
and the duke (albeit she was exceeding tender of complexion, 
and scarce able to beare her own bodie's weight through 
corpulency), till they were fully reconciled."* 

The result of her interference was doubly happy, occurring, 
as it did, at a moment when England was threatened with in- 
vasion by Charles the Sixth of France, who, as Speed quaintly 
says, was "a yong and foolish prince, who, having in his 
treasury, left to him by his prudent father, eighteene millions 
of crownes .... and being, moreover, set on fire with 
an inconsiderate love of glory, rather than upon any sound 
advice (though some impute the counsell to the said admirall. 
John de Vienne), would needs undertake the conquest of our 
countrey. These newes stirred all the limbes and humours there- 
of, though the event (God not favoring the enterprise) was 
but like that of the mountaine, which, after long travaile, 
brought forth a ridiculous mouse. Neverthelesse it had beene 
a most desperate season for a civill warre to have broken forth 
in England." 

An event which occurred during Richard's campaign in 

*Speed- 



144 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Scotland, was destined to end for ever the influence of Joanna. 
Lord Stafford, son to the Earl of Stafford, being sent by the 
king with messages to Anne (who had appointed him her 
knight and shown him many well-merited marks of favor), 
he was met at York by Sir John Holland, the king's half- 
brother, who having long entertained towards him the most 
violent jealousy, partly on account of the adoration shown him 
by the army, and partly from the queen's regard, sought a 
quarrel with him, the ostensible cause of which was that Lord 
Stafford's archers had, while protecting a Bohemian knight, 
an adherent of the queen's, slain a squire of Sir John Holland's. 
Seizing upon this pretext, Sir John attacked Lord Stafford, 
and, without hesitation or parley, killed him on the spot. 

The king, furious at this brutal murder, and still further ex- 
cited by the passionate appeals of the bereaved father for ven- 
geance on the slayer of his noble son, declared that justice 
should be done ; and, despite the prayers and tears of the un- 
happy Joanna for her guilty son, vowed, that as soon as his 
brother should leave the sanctuary of St. John of Beverley, 
whither he had fled, he should suffer death as the punishment 
of his crime. Such was the effect of this determination on the 
princess, that after four days of violent grief she expired at 
Wallingford, and Richard was so deeply shocked and afflicted 
at this melancholy event, that he pardoned the offender, who 
shortly afterwards departed for Syria on a pilgrimage. It had 
been well for Richard, had he never returned. 

It is with regret that we have to record one act of the gentle 
queen, for the injustice of which there is no defense. 

Richard's prime favorite, Robert de Vere, duke of Ireland, 
having fallen violently in love with an attendant of the queen's, 
resolved to put away his wife, Philippa, grand-daughter to 
Edward the Third, being the child of his daughter Isabel, by 
Enguerrand de Coucy, the king's near relative, in order to 
marry this woman. 

Historians differ widely in their statements as to the birth 
of the lady in question. Speed says she was "a Bohemian of 
base birth, called in her mother-tongue LancerOne ;" and Wal- 
singham calls her "Scllarii fflia" a saddler's daughter ; while 
Rymer states that she was landgravine of Luxemburg; and 
Carte mentions her as "a Bohemian lady of the queen's bed- 
chamber, called the landgrave, a fine woman, very pleasant and 
agreeable in conversation.. 



ANNE OF BOHEMIA. 145 

However this may be, Richard, so far from indignantly re- 
senting such injustice and insult to the blood royal, aided the 
efforts of his favorite to obtain a divorce from his fair and 
noble kinswoman ; and the queen wrote with her own hand to 
Pope Urban, to entreat him to grant the duke permission to put 
away his wife and marry the object of his guilty passion. By 
this unjustifiable act she offended many of the greatest nobles 
in the land to whom Philippa was related, and this without 
gaining any advantage for her favorite, as the divorce never 
was accomplished. 

But Anne was severely punished by Providence for this her 
first and last evil act. A great grief arising from this very act 
befell the queen, in the impeachment and execution of Sir Simon 
Burley, for whom she had ever entertained a warm and constant 
friendship. The Duke of Gloucester, enraged at the insult 
offered by the king, queen, and Duke of Ireland to his kins- 
woman, resolved to be avenged ; and after much plotting and 
underhand dealing on both sides, this powerful and unscrup- 
ulous noble, for whom Richard, king though he was called, was 
no match either in strength of position or authority, accom- 
plished the destruction of several of the king's most attached 
adherents, who were ignominiously executed at Tyburn by 
having their throats cut ; "Sir Simon Burley onely had the 
worship to have his head strucken off. Loe ! the noble respect 
which the gentle lords had to justice and amendment." 

It is difficult to conceive a position more painful and humili- 
ating than the one occupied by Richard at this period. Not only 
powerless, but possessing not even the shadow of power, he 
was treated with open disrespect by the insolent nobles, who, 
headed by Gloucester, had entirely usurped the regal authority, 
making him a cipher in his own kingdom, and leaving him not 
so much as the means to keep up the semblance of a court or 
royal household. He and his queen chiefly at this period resided 
at Eltham and Shene, so called by Edward the Confessor, from 
the lonely landscape around it. But even here he could not 
escape from a sense of his thralldom. The queen had also to 
suffer from the persecutions which were carried on against her 
attendants, many of whom were sacrificed without justice or 
mercy ; and that, probably, less on account of their being for- 
eigners, than on account of their Lollardism. Robert de Vefe, 
Duke of Ireland, who, judging from the steps taken by Anne 
with regard to his divorce and. second marriage, seems to have 



146 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

been as great a favorite with her as with Richard, had, like 
several others, fled to the continent, where he died in 1392, at 
Brabant, having been mortally wounded in a boar hunt. 

Richard had by this time attained his twenty-second year ; 
and weary of the ignoble restraints imposed upon him, he re- 
solved to shake off the fetters that weighed upon him, and 
declare himself ruler of his own kingdom. He was en- 
couraged in this resolve by the example of Charles the Sixth 
of France, who, from being kept under the closest tutelage by 
his uncles, had, by a sudden effort, freed himself from their 
authority and established his right to govern alone. 

Accordingly, on the 3d May, 1389, at an extraordinary coun- 
cil held at the Easter holidays, the king, to the great surprise of 
the assembled lords, rose and demanded "What age he was of?" 
and on receiving their reply, he proceeded to declare that "he 
was certainly of age to govern his own house, family, and 
kingdom, since every man in the nation was admitted earlier to 
the management of his estate and affairs ; and he saw no reason 
why his condition should be worse than theirs, and why he 
should be denied a right which the law gave to the meanest 
of his subjects." 

The lords, in considerable confusion, replying that he surely 
had a right to take the command of the kingdom, he continued, 
"that he had long enough been under the management of tutors, 
and not suffered to do the least thing without them ; but he 
would now remove them from his counsel and manage his own 
affairs." He then proceeded to displace the Archbishop of 
York, Duke of Gloucester, Earl of Warwick, Bishop of Here- 
ford, and Earl of Arundel, with all the other officers of state 
appointed by Gloucester, and to bestow their appointments on 
persons selected by himself. He issued proclamations calculated 
to conciliate and reassure the people ; and such were the good 
effects of these wise measures, that in spite of all Gloucester's 
endeavors to excite a spirit of rebellion and opposition, he could 
not succeed in disposing the nation against their youthful 
monarch. The Duke of Lancaster returning from his Spanish 
expedition at this period, he proceeded to Reading, where the 
king then was, "as well to present his dutie to his soveraigne, as 
to be an author of love and peace betweene the king and lords 
. * . . . . which he graciously effected, as seeming to ad- 
dict his mind to offices of pietie and publique benefit." 
Gloucester was included in this peacemaking business, but we 



ANNE OF BOHEMIA. 147 

may guess how much of cordiality subsisted between uncle and 
nephew. 

Richard, who, notwithstanding the mediation of Lancaster, 
was by no means desirous of retaining him in England, be- 
stowed upon him the duchies of Aquitaine and Guienne. A 
grand festival and tournament took place on this occasion. 
At the same time, his son, Henry Bolingbroke, departed for the 
wars in Prussia, where his presence 'was much more desirable 
than in the dominions of his royal cousin. Little of importance 
occurred from this period till the year 1392, when Richard 
demanding from the citizens the loan of a thousand pounds, 
they had not only refused to grant it themselves, but had beaten 
and brutally ill-used a Lombard who had offered to lend the 
sum. For these and other disorders their liberties were seized, 
tlieir magistracy dissolved, and the mayor and. some of the 
principal officers imprisoned. These active measures brought 
the Londoners to their senses ; they humbly entreated for for- 
giveness, and by the earnest intercession of the queen, Richard, 
after much persuasion, consented to pardon them. Upon this 
occasion they prepared a magnificent entertainment to conciliate 
the offended monarch. A body of citizens, to the number of 
about four hundred, all dressed in splendid livery and well 
mounted, met the king and queen at Blackheath, where they 
were on their way to Westminster, and besought them to pass 
through London ; to which the king finally agreed. They then 
escorted the royal couple to London bridge, where (says 
Fabian) Richard "was presented with two fayre stedes, trapped 
in ryche clothe of golde, partyd of redde and whyte," (one was 
for the queen;) "then rydyng on til he came to Standarde in 
Chepe, the cytezyns of the cyte standyng upon eyther syde of 
the stretes in theyr lyvereys, and cryeng Kyng Richarde, Kyng 
Richarde, and at theyr backes the wyndowys and wallys hanged 
with al ryche tapettes and clothes arasse in moste goodlye and 
shewyng wyse. And at the sayd standarde in Chepe, was 
ordeyned a sumptuouse stage, in whych were sette divers 
personages in ryche apparel, amonge the whyche an aungell was 
ordeyned, whiche sette a ryche crowne of golde garnyshed wyth 
stone and perle uppon the kynge's hede, and another on the 
queen's as they passed by." 

This was but a small portion of the pageant prepared for this 
great occasion ; there were mysteries and mummings, music and 
merriment ; gifts and offerings were presented to their majesties 



148 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

to a vast amount, so that after riot, bloodshed, imprisonment, 
and disgrace, the Londoners were glad to spend, ten thousand 
pounds to purchase the king's forgiveness, when, by the willing 
loan of one, they would have been saved from all the evils they 
suffered. 

At the entrance of the city, and at Temple Bar, on quitting 
it, the Lord Mayor earnestly implored the queen to intercede 
for the citizens, which she graciously promised, by simply 
saying, ''Leave all to me." On arriving at Westminster Hall, 
she fell with all her ladies on her knees before the king, and 
sued for pardon of the city ; which was, for her sake, immedi- 
ately granted. 

The following year (1394) Richard resolved to cross over, 
to quell in person the rebellion that had arisen in Ireland, but 
was prevented by an event which threw all England into mourn- 
ing. This was none other than the death of the queen. Speed, 
after alluding to the demises of the Duchess of Aquitaine, the 
Countess of Derby, her daughter-in-law, and the Duchess of 
York, which all occurred the same year, with much pathos 
says, "But all the griefe for their deaths did in no sort equall 
that of the king's for the losse of his owne Queene Anne, which 
about the same time hapned at Sheene in Surrey, whom he loved 
even to a kinde of madnesse." 

The blow was the more severe, as her illness being of but a 
few hours' duration, Richard was. totally unprepared for it; he 
gave way to'the most vehement expressions of sorrow, and in 
the first moments of his grief is said to have ordered that the 
place of Shene, which had been the favorite retreat of himself 
and of his lost Anne, should be leveled to the ground. Certain 
it is that he never approached it afterwards.* 

The funeral obsequies were performed with extraordinary 
magnificence, and the king "caused so many torches and tapers 
to be lighted up, that the like was never seen before." The 
queen was buried at Westminster, as some historians state, on 



*In Camden's "Britannia," there is the following notice of this 
queen's decease, in the descriDtion of Shene : "Heere also departed Anne, 
wife of King Richard the Second, sister of the Emperor Wenyslaus, 
and daughter to the Emperor Charles the Fourth, who first taught 
English women that manner of sitting on horseback which now is used: 
whereas before time, they rode very unseemly astride, like as men doe. 
Whose death also her passionate husband tooke so to the heart, that 
he altogether neglected the said house, and could not abide it." 




Qmauv to JUchard t/u? Z'"* 



ANNE OF BOHEMIA. 149 

the 26th July, St. Anne's day, while others name the 3d of 
August; and a splendid monument was erected to her memory. 
Richard mourned her loss long and deeply, and the people 
universally deplored their "good Queen Anne," to whose gentle 
influence they had many times owed their escape from the 
evils brought upon them by their readiness to listen to the 
counsels of those interested in alienating them from their sov- 
ereign, and by the struggles of the times in which she lived. 
Happy would it have been both for the king and country, had 
"good Queen Anne" lived as long as her husband. Her gentle 
influence would probably have restrained Richard from the 
follies and crimes which precipitated him from the throne, and 
saved the nation from many calamities. 



ISABELLA OF VALOIS, 

SFCOND WIFE OF RICHARD THE SECOND. 

Isabella of Valois, second wife of Richard the Second, was 
born at Paris in 1387, and was the eldest daughter of Charles 
the Sixth of France, and of Isabeau de Baviere, a woman as 
celebrated for her vices and extravagances as she was for her 
extraordinary beauty. 

This match excited the utmost astonishment in England, 
and no little displeasure ; astonishment, on account of the age 
of the bride, who, as some historians state, was, at the time of 
her betrothal, but nine years old, while others declare her to- 
have been only seven ; and displeasure, on account of the violent 
animosity the English had long entertained against the French, 
an animosity the indulgence of which had brought nothing but 
the most disastrous consequences during the last fifteen years 
of Edward the Third's reign, as well as during the earlier part 
of Richard's. They desired, also, that as the king's first wife, 
Anne of Bohemia — "good Queen Anne," as she is emphatically 
called — had brought him no offspring, he should marry a 
woman capable of giving an heir to the throne, instead of a child 
who could not be expected to do so for many years. Before 
determining on this marriage, Richard had, it appears, oc- 
cupied himself a good deal about the selection of a wife : "He 
would willingly have allied himself to the Duke of Bourgogne, 
or the Count of Hainault, but they had no daughters married 
or unaffianced. The Duke of Gloucester had one of a proper 
age, and would fain have had his nephew marry her; but 
Richard would not hear of it, pretending she was too near in 
blood, being his cousin-german ; though perhaps the true reason 
was, that the relation of father to the queen being added to that 
of uncle to the king, the duke's arrogance would have been 
swelled to an insupportable degree, and his power raised to an 
irresistible height, which was already but too formidable." 

None of these alliances succeeding, therefore, a triple motive 

150 



ISABELLA OF V ALOIS. 151 

induced him to seek that with France. His grief for the loss of 
his beloved Anne had been so intense, that, as before stated, he 
never could bear to behold the palace of Shene, where she had 
expired; though he deemed it right to marry again, his regret 
for her loss was yet too bitter and too fresh to allow him to re- 
gard with complacency the idea of already giving her a suc- 
cessor in his affections. He thought, .therefore, that by selecting 
as his wife a child of such tender years, time would have soft- 
ened his grief before she was of an age to rival in his heart 
the memory of her he had lost ; this was his first reason ; the 
others were of a political nature. 

The Duke of Gloucester, his uncle— who is described as "a 
man very dangerous and enterprising, possessed of a great 
estate, yet doing nothing but for money, of wonderful parts, 
and an excellent politician; proud, presumptuous, imperious, 
revengeful, bloody, false, and insincere; rather feared than 
loved, yet having a strong party attached to his interests'' — had 
resolved on getting the government of the nation into his own 
hands, if not on absolutely taking possession of the throne. 
Against such an enemy, Richard deemed that the alliance of 
Charles the Sixth would prove a great protection, and as he, 
far from sharing in the anxiety of his subjects to continue an 
unequal and injurious war with France, desired nothing more 
than a lasting peace with that country, he saw in this marriage 
the means of procuring that blessing, or at least a truce of such 
long duration as would insure him repose from that quarter 
for the remainder of his reign. 

Accordingly, the Archbishop of Dublin, the Bishop of St. 
David's, the Earls of Rutland and Nottingham, Lord Beaumont, 
and William le Scrope, chamberlain of the household, were sent 
to negotiate the marriage. They were commanded to insist 
that the portion of Isabella should not be less than two hundred 
and fifty thousand marks, and were in return to offer ten 
thousand marks a year rent in land for her jointure. Their 
proposals, however," were not immediately accepted, as negotia- 
tions had been entered into between Charles and the Duke de 
Bretagne for a marriage between her and the eldest son of that 
nobleman, which had almost terminated in an engagement, 
beside which, no treaty of peace having yet been madebetween 
the two monarchs, the French council deemed it not right that 
their king should give his daughter to one who was still an 
adversary : as, however, they were as well disposed for peace 



152 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

as Richard, the English ambassadors were most favorably re- 
ceived, entertained with the utmost splendor, and encouraged 
to hope that their mission would yet be successful. The Dukes 
of York and Lancaster, the king's uncles, being also well dis- 
posed towards the match, their consent was given and the ar- 
rangements terminated at Paris, in March, 1396. 

Preparations were accordingly made for the marriage, which 
was vet, however, destined to be further delayed by the appear- 
ance of two obstacles : the one, the necessity of obtaining a dis- 
pensation from Pope Boniface — there being a distant degree of 
relationship between the parties — and an absolution from any 
censures Isabella might incur for her adherence to Pope 
Clement ; — the other proceeded from Richard's desire to win 
over the approbation of the Duke of Gloucester to the intended 
peace with France, all the terms of which had been arranged, 
and which was to last for thirty years. To accomplish this 
point no efforts were left untried ; persuasions, promises, gifts — 
all failed, until at last, the king declaring that he would, on the 
ratification of the treaty, create his son Humfrey Earl of 
Rochester, with an income of two thousand pounds a year, and 
give him fifty thousand nobles for himself besides, he could no 
longer resist the temptation, and his consent was accorded. 

All difficulties being now removed, Richard attended by the 
Dukes of Lancaster and Gloucester, and a great train of some 
of the principal nobles, male and female, of the kingdom, sailed 
for Calais on the 27th of September ; and on the 28th of October, 
at an interview which took place between Guisnes and Ardres, 
the French king delivered to Richard his daughter, who, sur- 
rounded only by English ladies, with the exception of Madame 
de Coucy, accompanied her future husband to Calais, where 
they were married by the Archbishop of Canterbury, at the 
church of St. Nicolas, on the 1st of November, and on the 4th 
returned to Dover, 

Nothing could exceed the magnificence that attended the 
coronation of the young queen, which took place on Sunday, 
January 7th, in Westminster Abbey. Splendor and extrav- 
agance seem to have arrived at their utmost limit at this period, 
and the absurdity of the dresses, customs, and amusements of 
all classes, prove that good taste was certainly not the guide 
of expense. 

Quarrels and jealousies of domestic and political character 
we?e agitating the English court when Richard's girl-bride 



ISABELLA OF VALOfS. . 153 

arrived in England. Richard began to see that so long as 
Gloucester was free, he himself was not in safety. This power- 
ful, insolent, and ambitious man hardly made an attempt to con- 
ceal his schemes ; he had resolved to shut up the king and queen 
"in some fortress, where they should be well guarded, and might 
eat and drink in plenty, as long as it was convenient to let 
Richard live, and then the King of France might have his 
daughter." 

Gloucester was seized and conveyed to Calais, where he died 
suddenly. But from this time, Richard was constantly em- 
broiled with his nobles. He executed the Earl of Arundel, and 
imprisoned the Earl of Warwick, but only to find himself dis- 
tracted by the quarrels of Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, and 
the Duke of Norfolk. Scarcely were these settled, when the 
young Earl of March, the heir presumptive to the throne, was 
killed by the rebels in Ireland. Richard set out thither to 
chastise the insurgent Irish, but he was soon recalled by the 
landing of Bolingbroke, who had been banished, and now came 
back as Duke of Lancaster, in consequence of the death of his 
father, and to wrest, if possible, the crown from Richard. 

Immediately on this event, the Duke of York, who had been 
appointed regent during the king's absence, had the queen con- 
veyed to Wallingford Castle, where she remained while her 
royal husband, to whom, child as she was, she was most warmly 
attached, was deprived of his kingdom by Henry Bolingbroke. 
On his return from Ireland, Richard took refuge in different 
parts of Wales, where, though living amidst the greatest priva- 
tions, he remained tolerably safe until treacherously betrayed 
by Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland', who, under pretense 
of arranging certain conditions between him and Lancaster, 
persuaded him to repair to Flint Castle, that he might be nearer 
the scene of action ; here he detained him by force until the 
arrival of Bolingbroke. When Lancaster entered the court of 
Flint Castle, where the king waited to receive him, he made a 
slight bow, saying, "He was come sooner than perhaps Richard 
wished, to assist him in the government of the realm, which he 
had ruled for twenty-two years to its prejudice."* An anec- 
dote, related by Froissart on this occasion, is too interesting to 
be omitted. 

The king possessed a most beautiful greyhound named Math, 

*Carte. 



154 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

which always testified the warmest attachment toward him, but 
would notice none else. While Richard and Lancaster were 
standing together in the courtyard, the dog, escaping, flew not 
to the king, but to Henry, caressing him, and placing his fore- 
paws on his shoulders, as he had been wont to do with his un- 
happy master. Lancaster, surprised at this affection, asked the 
king the meaning of it. 

Richard replied : "Cousin, it means a great deal for you, and 
very little for me." 

"How?" said the duke ; "pray explain it." 

"I understand by it," said the unfortunate king, "that this, 
my favorite greyhound, Math, fondles and pays his court to you 
this day as king of England, which you will be, and I shall be 
deposed, for that the natural instinct of the creature perceives. 
Keep him, therefore, by your side ; for lo, he leaveth me, and will 
ever follow you." 

The king, with the Earl of Salisbury, the Bishop of Carlisle, 
Sir Stephen Scrope, and two other of his chief officers, were 
mounted on three sorry jades, all together worth scarce forty 
shillings, and led to Chester, where he was forced that very 
night to sign commissions appointing Sir Peter Courtney to be 
captain of Calais, John Norbury, governor of Guisnes, and 
others to the like commands and trusts in the fortresses of the 
marches toward Picardie." 

And now was every means tried to slander and blacken the 
unfortunate Richard, in order to overcome the feeling of affec- 
tion still entertained for him by the common people. They even 
declared, to destroy the prestige of his birth, that he was not 
the son of the Black Prince and gave forth a hundred 
calumnies, as vile as they were absurd ; but there was still so 
much attachment felt for him that his rescue was frequently 
attempted, and once he very nearly escaped, near Coventry, 
after which he was "guarded like a felon." 

"In this manner, mounted on a little nag, and without chang- 
ing his clothes, he was brought, on Saturday, August 30, to St. 
Alban's, and from thence, the Monday following, to Westmin- 
ster, where he lay for one night in his palace, and was carried 
the next day to the Tower of London." 

During these events the queen was hastily moved from one 
spot to another, and was at last lodged in Leeds Castle, under 
the care of the Duchess of Ireland. Here she met her former 
governess and principal lady of honor, Lady de Coucy, sister 



ISABELLA OF VALOIS. 155 

of the duchess, and first cousin of Richard, who had been dis- 
missed from that post on account of the extraordinary state she 
had taken upon herself, and the immense expenses she had in- 
curred in supporting her pretensions. The Londoners, how- 
ever, disapproving of her remaining about the queen, dismissed 
her and her attendants, with all who were attached to the king, 
and provided her with a new household of their own choosing, 
who were strictly enjoined never to mention to her the name ol 
her royal husband, or acquaint her with his fate. Such was the 
enmity of the Londoners to their king, and devotion to the 
duke, that it is asserted they sent deputations to Lancaster, on 
his road to the metropolis, begging him to cut off Richard's 
head ; and when he entered the city, he was greeted with shouts 
of "Long live Henry, the noble Duke of Lancaster ! who hath 
conquered England in less than a month ; such a lord deserves 
to be king" — quoting a pretended prophecy of Merlin, for A. D. 
1399, "that a king should then be deposed after a reign of 
twenty-two years." 

For a considerable time Richard remained refractory, refus- 
ing to sign the resignation to the crown, which Lancaster was 
so desirous to obtain. He was particularly exasperated by the 
duke's refusal to suffer the queen to come to him, a favor he 
earnestly sought to gain ; for he is said to have entertained the 
strongest attachment to the youthful Isabella, child though she 
was, while she, entirely won by his kind and gentle demeanor, 
his fascinating and courtly manners, his accomplishments, and, 
above all, his affection for her, loved him with a devotion rare 
in one so young. 

At last, however, hoping to gain time, save his life, and per- 
haps obtain assistance from France, the unfortunate monarch 
was induced to sign his abdication. On the reading of the act 
of resignation and declaration of Lancaster's right to the 
throne, the Bishop of Carlisle, a man whose qualities of head 
and heart make his name for ever memorable in the annals of 
this period of treachery, rebellion and injustice, alone ventured 
to oppose the usurper and defend the wronged monarch, in a 
speech full of power, energy and truth. The reward of his 
noble conduct was, that as soon as he had ceased to speak, he 
was, by Henry's order, arrested and sent prisoner to the Abbey 
of St. Alban's. 

After various deliberations, Henry Bolingbroke was declared 
king on the 30th of September, 1399, entirely passing over the 



156 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

rights of Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March ; and, on the 23rd 
of October, in the new parliament called by Henry on his acces- 
sion, it was resolved that Richard should be imprisoned for the 
rest of his life, but that if any one attempted his rescue, Rich- 
ard himself should be executed ! a resolution of such monstrous 
injustice that Rapin remarks, "qu'il y a quelque lieu de soup- 
cornier que I'histoire est defectueuse en cct endroit," though, 
as the fact is almost universally stated, we cannot do otherwise 
than believe it. 

Great mystery remains respecting the death of the ill-fated 
monarch.* Fabian asserts, that at a hint dropped by Henry, 
Sir Piers de Exton, accompanied by eight men, proceeded to 
Pontefract Castle, where Richard was confined. The day of his 
arrival, Richard, perceiving that the usual ceremony of tasting 
the viands was omitted, demanded the reason, and on being in- 
formed that it was the king's order, brought by Piers, he swore 
at both, and with a carving-knife struck the attendant on the 
face. -At this moment Piers and his party rushed into the room ; 
and Richard, too well guessing their mission, seized a weapon 
from the first, and defended himself with such energy that four 
of the assassins fell before him, and he would probably have 
sacrificed more had not Sir Piers leaped upon a chair and as he 
passed cleft his skull with a pole-axe. 

A short time previous to this tragical eve*nt, a conspiracy, in 
which the fair young queen took a conspicuous part, was set on 
foot by the Duke of Aumerle, the Lords Huntingdon and Salis- 
bury, the Bishop of Carlisle, and others, to assassinate Henry, 
and replace Richard on the throne. The time fixed for the exe- 
cution of this plot was a grand tournament about to be given at 
Windsor, but, by accident, a paper relating to it being found by 
the Duke of York on his son Aumerle's person, the latter, re- 
solving at least to have the credit of first revealing the con- 
spiracy, started on the spot, and throwing himself at Henry's 
feet, betrayed the whole to him. The king was so little pre- 



*"Walsingham dit qu'il se laissa mourir de faim, du chagrin qu'il eut 
de ce que le ccmplot avoit echoue. Stow dit qu'on lui fit souffrir, 
durant quinze jours, la faim, la soif et le froid, jusqu'a ce qu'il mourut. 
Polydore Virgile dit qu'on ne lui permettoit pas de toucher les viandes 
qu'on servoit devant lui. Hector Boece veut faire accroire que Richard 
s'enfuit deguise en Ecossp, ou s'etant adonne entierement a la contem- 
plation, il vecut, mourut, et fut enterre a Sterling. Cela peut-etre 
vrai de quelque Richard suppose." — Tindal, quoted by Rapin. 




'G&«/d!a,. 'ff%£*# 



ISABELLA OF VALOIS. • 157 

pared for such a revelation that he would not at first believe it, 
till the arrival of the Duke of York and the sight of the paper 
convinced him. 

This discovery compelled the conspirators to hasten their 
measures, and, accordingly, attired one Magdalen (an attend- 
ant of Richard's, who bore a most extraordinary resemblance 
to him) in royal robes, they declared that it was the deposed 
king escaped from his prison ; and appealing to the people to 
defend the cause of their rightful sovereign, a body was soon 
raised of a force that caused the usurper to tremble. They pro- 
ceeded forthwith to Windsor, hoping to surprise and seize 
Henry before he could make his escape, which, however, he 
had accomplished a few hours before their arrival, and had pro- 
ceeded to London, where, assembling an army, he went to meet 
Richard's party at Hounslow, believing it would advance 
toward the capital. The conspirators learning this, and not 
wishing to risk a battle, took the route to Colebrook, where 
they imagined the young queen to be ; but finding she was at 
Sunning Hill, they marched thither, informing her that her hus- 
band had escaped, and was coming with an army to meet her! 
Enchanted at this joyful intelligence, Isabella set out with the 
chiefs of the party, and accompanied them to Cirencester, 
where, by a want of proper precautions on their own side, and a 
ruse of the mayor, the whole body were betrayed into the hands 
of their enemies and Surrey and Salisbury were decapitated 
on the spot by order of the mayor. The fair young queen, thus 
cruelly deceived and disappointed, was also made prisoner, and 
kept in close confinement at Haveringatte-Bower, where she 
remained until her father, who had confirmed to Henry the 
truce of twenty-eight years made with Richard, demanded 
that she should be sent back to France — a demand to which 
Henry replied by asking her in marriage for the Prince of 
Wales. Faithful, however, to the memory of her noble hus- 
band Isabella entirely refused to listen to the pleadings of her 
gallant suitor, Henry of Monmouth, who seems to have been 
as much influenced by personal admiration of ^he fair virgin 
widow as by political motives in his pursuit of her. 

Her own fixed determination against the match, joined to 
certain objections on the part of her royal relatives in France, 
at length compelled Henry to restore her to them, which he did 
the more unwillingly, that it raised a question relative to the 
return of her jewels and dower, which question was long and 



158 - THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

warmly agitated between the two sovereigns ; though it appears 
to little purpose, for there is every reason to believe that they 
never were restored. 

In the month of July, 1402, Isabella, who had not yet com- 
pleted her fifteenth year, once more landed in her native coun- 
try, where she was received with a warm and joyous welcome 
by all whom her youth, beauty and misfortunes had interested 
in her behalf. 

About three years afterward, the young widow — against her 
own wishes at the time — was betrothed to the son of the Due 
d'Orleans, who succeeded to the title in the year 1407, by the 
death of his father, who was savagely murdered by the Due de 
Bourgogne. Two years afterward, the marriage (to which the 
betrothal had only been the prelude) was celebrated between 
herself and her cousin, whose many virtues, added to brilliant 
talents and elegance of mind and person, had completely suc- 
ceeded not only in reconciling her to the match, but in winning 
her affection and esteem. 

Nothing could exceed the felicity that attended this union, 
too sOon, alas ! to be destroyed by the untimely death of Isa- 
bella, who expired in 1410, after giving birth to a female in- 
fant. 

Her virtues and charms have been chronicled by the poems 
of her gifted husband, whose grief for her loss was as pas- 
sionate as his love had been true and ardent. Years afterward 
it was his fate to suffer nearly a quarter of a century's captivity 
in the country which had been the scene of his fair wife's mis- 
fortunes, being made prisoner by Henry the Fifth at Agin- 
court. 



JOANNA OF NAVARRE, 

THE WIFE OF KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 

The name and character of this queen are but little known 
to the readers of English history, although she took a distin- 
guished part in the politics of her times. As the wife of the 
first sovereign of the house of Lancaster, she becomes an object 
of interest ; while her prudence, talents and virtues recommnd 
her still more to our consideration. 

This princess, by both her parents, was descended from the 
roval family of France. 

Her grandmother, Donna Joanna, was the daughter of the 
French king, Lewis Hutin, and upon his death was declared by 
the States to be the rightful heir to the crown, in opposition to 
the claims of the English monarch, Edward the Third; but 
"might overcame right" in this instance, and Philip "de Yalois" 
obtained possession of the throne, leaving, however, to the 
Princess Joanna the peaceable inheritance of the kingdom of 
Navarre. 

In these dominions she ruled, after the death of her husband, 
with great dignitv and discretion. By her consort, Philip of 
Evreux, she had three sons and four daughters. Her eldest son 
became distinguished in history as Charles "le Mauvais," and 
was the father of Joanna of Navarre, the subject of this me- 
moir. 

All the children of Donna Joanna formed noble alliances, 
through the consummate prudence and high reputation of this 
queen, which rendered the house of Navarre infinitely more 
important than it had previously been, and gave it a greater in- 
fluence both in France and Spain. The Queen of Navarre con- 
ducted Donna Blanca, or Blanche, her third daughter, into 
France, to be united to the eldest son of Philip de Yalois ; but 
Philip was so struck with the beauty and merit of this princess 
that he married her himself, in spite of the disparity of their 

*59 



i6o THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

age. Two months after these nuptials, Donna Joanna died, on 
the 6th of October, 1346, at Conflans, and was buried at St. 
Denis. 

Her son Charles then became King of Navarre. This prince 
is styled by the Spanish writers, Don Carlos, "the Wicked," 
and by others, Charles d'Albret. He was eighteen years of age 
when he ascended the throne. He had been educated in the 
French court, and was one of the most accomplished persons of 
his time. He is described as courteous, eloquent in the ex- 
treme, and popular without losing his dignity ; indeed such were 
his great qualities that they attracted the notice of all Europe, 
before he became a king, but his subsequent shameful abuse of 
power drew upon him the detestation of mankind. 

His subjects had been led to anticipate a glorious reign, but 
they found themselves cruelly disappointed, for his first acts 
were of such severity as to alarm their minds for the future. 

This prince also formed a close intimacy with Don Pedro, 
called "the Cruel," on whom the crown of Castile had just de- 
volved. There was little inequality in the ages of these two 
princes, and their tempers assimilated. When they first met at 
Burgos they were both young, gay and unstained in character, 
and having splendid courts, the interview, which was most 
magnificent, gave mutual satisfaction. 

Don Carlos laid claim to the countries of Brie and Cham- 
pagne, and even made pretensions to Burgundy. John, King 
of France, who had succeeded his father, Philip, on the throne, 
in order to appease the King of Navarre, bestowed upon him 
his second daughter, Joanna, in marriage, which, although ac- 
ceptable to the Navarrese monarch, did not deter him from set- 
ting up new demands so soon as his nuptials were celebrated 
with the French princess. 

Of this lady, the mother of queen Joanna of Navarre, little 
notice occurs in history. Yet her life must have been both 
eventful and unhappy as the consort of such a prince as Charles, 
who became notorious for his crimes and unprincipled conduct, 
and whose life might be called a continual agitation to himself 
and others. 

The eldest son of Joanna was born at Nantes, and left for his 
education with Blanche, the queen dowager of France, when 
his parents returned to Spain in 1359. 

In the year 1365, Don Carlos sent his Queen Joanna into 
France to negotiate a peace with her brother, King Charles the 




S .,./" /v- J „ . /> 



JOANNA OF NAVARRE. 16 1 

Fifth, who there conceded Montpelier to the King of Navarre. 
Before her return to Spain, Joanna gave birth to her son, Don 
Pedro at Evreux. Subsequently we find this princess, left as 
regent in Navarre during the absence of her- husband, Charles, 
who was following up his projects of getting possession of 
Brie, Champagne and Burgundy. While acting as regent, 
Donna Joanna was alarmed by an invasion by the King of Cas- 
tile of the Navarrese dominions, but calling in the aid of the 
Pope's legate, she caused a treaty of pacification to be entered 
into. 

Joanna of Navarre, afterward Queen of England, was born 
in 1370; she lost her mother when she was only three years of 
age. When she was ten years old, that is, in 1380, a peace was 
established between the two kingdoms of Castile and Navarre, 
to confirm which the Infant Don Carlos was contracted to 
Donna Leonora of Castile, who was promised a handsome 
dower in ready money; and the Princess Joanna was at the 
same time affianced to John the heir of Castile. 

Upon the death of his father, John of Castile, breaking off 
his engagement with Joanna, married a princess of Arragon, 
which he is said to have done from reasons of state policy. 

The intrigues of Charles of Navarre to establish himself on 
the disputed throne of his grandfather, engaged him in many 
contests ; and upon one occasion, while at variance with the 
Regents of France, his two sons, Charles and Peter, had been 
sent with their sister Joanna for security to the castle of Bre- 
teuil in Normandy, where they were all taken captive, and car- 
ried to Paris, and were there detained as hostages for their 
father's future good conduct. 

Charles "le Mauvais," unable to obtain their release, em- 
ployed a person to poison both the regents. But his diabolical 
scheme was discovered, and his agent put to death, and though 
Charles himself this time escaped the punishment he merited, 
yet his name soon became notorious throughout Europe for 
his crimes, and especially for his skill in magic and poisoning, 
which contemporary writers say he practiced privately in his 
own palace. 

The Regents of France, who were the maternal uncles of 
Charles' children, continued to detain them in a captivity, 
which, though it must have been irksome, was tempered as 
much as possible by the affection and honor with which they 
were treated. Meanwhile, the young wife of Charles, one of 



i(52 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the captive princes, unceasingly besought her brother, the King 
of Castile, to interfere and procure their release, which he did 
successfully, and thus Joanna at last obtained her freedom by 
the intercession of the very prince who had refused to accept 
her as affianced bride. 

Joanna of Navarre first becomes distinguished in history on 
the occasion of her marriage with John the Fourth, Duke of 
Brittany. She was that prince's third wife. John had passed 
his youth in England ; and his first consort was Mary Planta- 
genet, the daughter of King Edward the Third, with whose 
family he had been educated. 

Upon the death of this lady, without children, he entered into 
a second union, three years after, with the half-sister of King 
Richard the Second, the Lady Jane Holland. At the time that 
Joanna was first proposed to him as his third consort, fears 
were entertained by the Regents of France that the duke's par- 
tiality to England would induce him to enter into another al- 
liance with that country. To counteract the disadvantage of 
such a match, and to secure Brittany as a fief for France, they 
proposed to John that he. should become a suitor for the hand of 
their niece, the Princess Joanna of Navarre, with whom they 
offered a very high dower. 

Some years before this proposition, Joan of Navarre, the 
aunt of Joanna, had married the Viscount de Rohan, a relative 
and vassel of the Duke of Brittany ; this lady was employed by 
the regents to bring about the marriage of their niece. It was 
through her exertions that John de Montfort, although declin- 
ing in years, was induced to unite himself with the Spanish 
princess, who was then in the bloom of youth ; and Pierre de 
Lesnerac was dismissed, in June, 1384, to solicit for the duke, 
the hand of Joanna, and to convey her into Brittany/ 

Many obstacles occurred in the course of these negotiations, 
which delayed the marriage, but there was no indifference on 
the part of the duke, who, having no children, was anxious to 
have an heir to his dukedom ; and, therefore, earnestly desired 
his union with this princess. A second time he dismissed his 
envoy, on the 13th of June, 1386, with every requisite provision 
for the use of his bride and her attendants, to escort her to his 
dominions. 

The marriage contract was signed at Pampeluna, on the 25th 
of August, 1386. Charles, King of Navarre, engaged to be- 
stow upon his daughter Joanna 120,000 livres of gold, of the 



JOANNA OF NAVARRE. 163 

coins of the kings of France, and 6,000 livres due to him on the 
lands of the Viscount d'Avranches. Joanna had also assigned 
to her the cities of Nantes and Guerrande, the barony of Rais, 
of Chatellenic de Touffon, and that of Guerche. 

The nuptial ceremony was performed at Saille, near Guer- 
rande, in Navarre, on the nth of September, 1386, and many 
knights, nobles and squires from Brittany were present. This 
joyous occasion was succeeded by 'numerous splendid feasts 
and pageants given by the duke, at Nantes, in honor of his 
youthful bride. 

In February of 1387 an exchange of gifts took place between 
the duke and duchess, as a testimony of their mutual affection, 
consisting of gold, sapphires, pearls and other costly gems, with 
horses, falcons and. various sorts of wines. 

John "the Valiant," Duke of Brittany, although one of the 
most warlike princes of his age, was also one of the most quar- 
relsome ; it is therefore still more creditable on his part, that, 
although the King of Navarre never entirely fulfilled his prom- 
ises respecting the dower he had settled upon his daughter, the 
bridegroom did not resent his conduct, and that no estrange- 
ment between him and his young wife was produced by it. He 
regarded her with the utmost fondness, and in spite of the dis- 
appointment of his hopes of an heir to the dukedom, by the 
birth of two daughters in succession, John "le Valiant" never 
forgot the respect and affection due to his duchess, and it may 
be said, that, as tender an attachment succeeded their union as 
could exist under the disparity of their years. 

Charles "le Mauvais," ever occupied in mischief, had infused 
into the mind of his son-in-law suspicions against his mortal 
enemy, Oliver de Clisson, Constable of France, and such a 
thirst for vengeance was awakened in his breast that it had 
nearly involved him in ruin. But the flame of jealousy thus 
lighted up against De Clisson, and which led to the most ex- 
traordinary and unjustifiable conduct on the part of John "le 
Valiant," did not cause Joanna to suffer in the least; an un- 
doubted proof of her prudent and discreet conduct. 

To the day of his death her irritable husband continued to 
regard the young and lovely duchess with the most unalterable 
confidence and regard. 

In the course of her husband's rule, this princess had on 
many occasions to exercise her beneficial influence, which was 
great, and Joanna never failed to exert herself in the cause of 



164 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

justice and humanity, and more than once she had the satisfac- 
tion of rescuing her willful husband from circumstances of 
extreme peril, into which his own rashness had led him. 

The Duchess of Brittany, notwithstanding the splendor of 
her high station, enjoyed but little real happiness. In the year 
1387, the first year of her married life, she had to mourn the 
tragical end of her father, Charles of Navarre, who, hated and 
unpitied by the world, was still beloved by his affectionate 
daughter, though she was* unable to respect and honor him. 
This prince expired under peculiarly horrible circumstances. 

In the hope of restoring the use of his limbs which were 
paralyzed by disease, he caused his body to be encased in ban- 
dages previously dipped in spirits of wine and sulphur. The 
careless attendants one night desiring to sever the thread with 
which these bandages had been sewn, applied a candle, which, 
igniting the spirits of wine, burnt the king so frightfully that 
he died a few days afterward. 

Much afflicted as she was at this melancholy catastrophe the 
Duchess Joanna had yet other griefs. In the following years 
she was deprived of two children, who died within a short time 
of each other, and severely did she lament their loss. She was 
at this time living in solitary life in the castle of Ermine, while 
her husband was at Paris pleading his cause against the con- 
stable, Oliver de Clisson. But Joanna was soon after cheered 
by the news of the duke's reconciliation with the King of 
France, and she was also consoled for her losses by the satisfac- 
tion of giving birth to a son and heir to the house of Montfort ; 
and subsequently she became the mother of a numerous family. 

From the period of the birth of her eldest son, Joanna be- 
gan to exercise her influence in public affairs, and she grad- 
ually became experienced in the government of the duchy. 
War again broke out between her husband and De Clisson, 
and again they were cited to appear before the King of France, 
but John "le Valiant" refused to obey the summons. The Duke 
de Berri was dismissed to Nantes to assemble the chiefs of the 
nobles of Brittany ; while ambassadors were sent to the duke, 
who, in great anger, commanded their arrest. 

Joanna, instantly perceiving the great danger to which this 
base step would expose the duchy, immediately hurried with 
her little son and her second child, but an infant, into the pres- 
ence of the duke, whom she besought with tears and earnest 
entreaties, not to permit his unconscious children to suffer the 



JOANNA OF NAVARRE. 165 

inevitable peril consequent on such rashness. She pleaded suc- 
cessfully, and the duke ordered that the ambassadors should be 
treated with the usual respect. But he was soon again involved 
in trouble by harboring the traitor Pierre de Craon, who had 
attempted to assassinate the Constable of France in the Place 
de St. Katherine. The Constable escaped the hand of Craon, 
and the assassin fled into the territories of the duke, who, re- 
fusing to surrender him, a large army, headed by the king him- 
self, entered the duchy. The duke's ruin seemed inevitable, 
but the sudden illness of Charles the Sixth put an end to the 
enterprise, and John "le Valiant" was rescued from his peril. 

In 1393 the Duke of Brittany besieged De Clisson in the 
castle of Josselin, and the Viscount Rohan was deputed to plead 
with the duchess to persuade her husband to raise the siege. 
Joanna readily undertook to do so, for she was always more 
favorable toward De Clisson than the duke, who, upon this oc- 
casion, also acceded to his wife's request De Clisson returned 
to his allegiance, and paid the duke uie sum of 100,000 golden 
francs. His confederates also obtained the duke's favor through 
the same intercession ; and in the treaty which they entered 
into, in 1393, Joanna, as though an independent sovereign, 
agreed to "promise, grant and swear that she would aid and 
defend the aforesaid." 

The Duke of Brittany aspired to the highest alliances for his 
children. He projected the marriage of his eldest son, when 
but eight years old, to the second daughter of the King of 
France, and his eldest daughter, although but seven, to Henry, 
the son of the Earl of Derby, and afterward Henry the Fifth of 
England. 

The first of these alliances only took place ; and the daughter, 
whose name was Mary, was subsequently contracted to the 
Earl of Alencon. 

During the frequent absences of the duke from his duchy, 
Joanna was entrusted with the administration ; so that she grad- 
ually became exercised in those duties, which it was afterward 
necessary for her to fulfill. 

When Henry of Lancaster, afterward Henry the Fourth of 
England, returned to England after the death of John of 
Gaunt, with the intention of claiming his inheritance, and in the 
remote expectation of the regal crown, he passed through Brit- 
tany, accompanied by the exiled Archbishop Arundel. He re- 
ceived the most cordial welcome from John "le Valiant," who 



i66 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

made liberal promises to him of assistance, and, after feasting 
him for several days, at his departure sent with him three ves- 
sels of Brittany, full of men-at-arms and others, to escort him 
to Plymouth. Before the close of the same year, the Duke of 
Brittany was no more ; Henry had usurped his cousin's throne ; 
and, not long after, Joanna of Navarre became his queen. 

John "le Valiant" died on the ioth of November, 1399, and 
some have supposed his end to have been hastened by poison, 
administered through the agency of Margaret, Countess of 
Penthievres, the daughter of Clisson. However this may be, 
his faithful consort attended him during his last illness, and 
had the satisfaction of closing his eyes in peace. 

A few days previous to his decease, the duke added a codicil 
to his will by which he confirmed to Joanna her dower, and all 
his gifts to her, his beloved wife ; and appointed her, with her 
eldest son and two other persons, his executors. He also left 
Joanna sole guardian of his children, seven in number. The 
duke was interred with due solemnity, and Joanna having been 
appointed regent during the minority of the young duke, her 
son, she immediately commenced the charge of her public duties 
by a formal reconciliation with Oliver de Clisson and the other 
confederate lords. This was an act of great policy, to say the 
least of it; but it is probable, that Joanna knew the real char- 
acter of De Clisson, and justly thought it wise, at any cost, to 
secure the friendship of such a man. 

There is an anecdote related of the constable which redounds 
so much to his honor that it may not be amiss to introduce it 
here. 

The daughter of De Clisson was the wife of the rival claim- 
ant of the Duchy of Brittany, and it is said that when Duke 
John died, leaving an infant family, she rushed to the chamber 
of her father and requested him to kill the noble minors, to 
make way for her own children. 

This base appeal so roused the ire of the virtuous constable 
that, forgetting at once his just resentment against Duke John, 
he drew his sword, exclaiming "that if she lived longer, she 
would initiate her children in infamy and crime ;" and he would 
have killed her upon the spot had she not made a retreat, so 
hasty that, in quitting the presence of her incensed parent, she 
fell and broke the bone of her thigh, which caused her to be 
lame throughout the remainder of her life. 

The Duchess of Brittany exercised the high duties of regent 



JOANNA OF NAVARRE. 167 

with singular prudence, talents and discretion. Eighteen 
months after her husband's death she put the young duke into 
possession of the duchy. He took the customary oaths on the 
22nd of May, 140 1, in the cathedral of Rennes, and was 
knighted by De Clisson on the following day. 

Previous to these events, the Duchess x)f Brittany having re- 
ceived overtures of marriage from King Henry the Fourth, 
had taken the necessary steps to obtain a dispensation, which 
was at last granted. At this time there was a schism in the 
Church ; yet, although Joanna acknowledged one pope, and 
King Henry another, matters were, after some delay, finally 
accommodated, and she was united to the King of England, by 
proxy, on the 3rd of April, 1402, at the palace of Eltham. It is 
remarkable that upon this occasion a male representative was 
chosen by the duchess, being Antoine Riczi, who received for 
her the troth of Henry of Lancaster and pledged hers in 
return. 

King Henry's proposals had been made to the Duchess of 
Brittany with a view to obtain the guardianship of her sons ; 
but the court of France, alarmed at this alliance, took the gov- 
ernment of Brittany into their own hands, and the young 
princes were removed to Paris to receive their education. 
Joanna consigned her sons to the care of the Duke of Burgundy, 
and she not only did this with the best grace imaginable, but 
also, by her good sense and prudence contrived to overcome 
the displeasure which her marriage had excited at the French 
court. In her last act of regal power in Brittany, she secured, 
the independence of her relative Joan of Navarre, by settling 
upon her a pension of 1,000/. per annum, and she also disposed 
of a part of her dower to De Clisson. The next day Joanna 
sailed for England, having previously assumed the title of 
queen, and written to her affianced husband on some matters of 
great importance. 

The queen was accompanied to England by her two daugh- 
ters, Blanch and Margaret, and various attendants. It was her 
intention to land at Southampton, where the king's envoys 
awaited her ; but her fleet encountered a terrible tempest, and 
after being tossed about during five days, and driven to the 
coast of Cornwall, she landed with all her suite at Falmouth. 
From this place the queen proceeded to Winchester, where the 
king received and welcomed her, and where their nuptials were 
celebrated with pomp and splendid festivities. 



i68. THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Queen Joanna proceeded from the royal city of Winchester 
to London, where great preparations were made in honor of 
her arrival. At Blackheath she was met by the Lord Mayor, 
Aldermen and City Companies, who, with every demonstration 
of joy, conducted her to the capital. After passing one night at 
the palace of the Tower, the queen was conducted with the 
same pomp and ceremony to her residence at the palace of 
Westminster. 

The ceremony of coronation followed, upon the 26th of Feb- 
ruary, 1403. Queen Joanna was enthroned not on the same 
seat with the king, but in a separate chair of state. Her robes 
were the most becoming and graceful, and in her hand she bore 
the orb and- cross. 

Few queens consort have been crowned with more splendor 
than the dignified and matronly Joanna of Navarre. 

The dower assigned to her by parliament was the same as 
that of Anne of Bohemia, first wife of Richard the Second, 
amounting to 10,000 marks per annum. 

Peace was never long maintained between France and Eng- 
land. The disposition for war was a continual annoyance to 
the new queen, who was thus often compelled to behold her 
nearest relatives engaged in mortal combat against each other. 
The son of Joanna was also so much under the control of the 
court of France that he had often to appear in arms against 
England, or to remain entirely neutral. 

Joanna was the first widow who had worn the matrimonial 
crown since the Conquest. She was about three-and-thirty 
years of age, and had a large family. Still her influence over 
the mind of Henry was great ,and his love for her continued 
unaltered. By her friendly interference much evil was pre- 
vented, and at length a truce was concluded with the Duke of 
Brittany, which promised'to be of the most essential benefit to 
both countries. 

King Henry bestowed upon his beloved wife many rich and 
valuable possessions, and appointed her the new Tower, ad- 
joining Westminster Hall, in which to hold her public courts 
and perform such other acts as devolved upon her as queen con- 
sort. He also granted her some lead mines in England ; and at 
her request bestowed upon her son Arthur the earldom of Rich- 
mond, for which he rendered his homage to the king. 

Queen Joanna caused a splendid alabaster tomb to be pre- 



JOANNA OF NAVARRE. ,169 

pared by English artists to the memory of her first husband, 
and conveyed to France and placed in the church of Nantes. 

Although so amiable and beloved, Joanna's life was far from 
being either peaceful or happy. She was not popular with the 
English, simply on account of the trains of foreigners which 
she had about her, always an offensive sight to the English. 
Two or three attacks upon her foreign domestics were made by 
parliament, and especially by the commons, who had now as- 
sumed a position of considerable influence in the state. Be- 
sides these sources of annoyance, by which she was denied the 
regulation even of her own household, she saw some of her 
admirers become objects of jealousy to her royal lord. The 
storm of his fury fell with its utmost violence upon an old and 
faithful adherent of King Henry, the Duke of York, who was 
consigned to a prison upon some petty pretense, and kept in 
confinement for a considerable time. The king, however, was 
soon convinced . of the groundlessness of his suspicion, and 
"made amendes" by releasing him from his captivity, and re- 
storing him to his former employments. S6nie amatory lines 
are still preserved from the pen of the Duke of York which 
were addressed to Queen Joanna, who, although no longer 
young, was still sufficiently charming to excite great admira- 
tion. But the discreet conduct of the queen enabled her to rise 
above every suspicion, and to maintain her influence with the 
king as powerfully as before. 

Besides these subjects of annoyance, the queen was com- 
pelled in 1406 to part with her two daughters, who had accom- 
panied her to England ; and, having no children by King Henry, 
she was the more strongly attached to these princesses. It was 
therefore with deep regret that she resigned them to their elder 
brother, the Duke of Brittany, who had formed marriages for 
them, in order to strengthen his own political position. Yet she 
had the satisfaction of the society of her second son, Arthur of 
Bretagne, who had arrived the year before, and who, as already 
stated, had been created Earl of Richmond . 

From this period Queen Joanna resided at Leeds Castle, in 
Kent, with the king, in order to avoid the plague which raged 
in London. In the year 1409 the king and queen passed their 
Christmas at Eltham, a favorite abode with them. In 1412 her 
third son, Jules of Bretagne, Lord of Chantore, arrived in Eng- 
land, but only to die. 

The conduct of Joanna as a stepmother was irreproachable ; 



i;o THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

though hy some she had been accused of avarice, probably aris- 
ing from her pecuniary difficulties in all her three positions, first 
in Spain, then in Brittany, and lastly in England. She sur- 
vived her husband some years. King Henry died on the 20th 
of March, 1413; and his successor continued to testify to her 
the same respect and esteem as he had previously evinced ; and 
some historians even say that he entrusted her with a share in 
the government during his expedition to France. Upon the 
news of the victory at Agincourt, Queen Joanna went in pro- 
cession from St. Paul's to Westminster with the prelates, nobil- 
ity, Lord Mayor and corporation of the city, to return thanks 
for this signal success. But she had little cause for joy ; for the 
Duke of Alecon, the husband of her eldest daughter, after 
cleaving the jeweled coronal of her stepson, King Henry, was 
killed in this battle, and her own brother, Charles of Navarre, 
died of his wounds on the following day ; besides which, her 
son Arthur, a gallant prince, who had embraced the cause of 
France, was taken prisoner. Thus, while acting the part of a 
sovereign on this occasion of public rejoicing, the heart of the 
mother mourned in secret over her family bereavements ; yet 
she forbore to weep until she had fulfilled the outward acts of 
her regal station. Queen Joanna had to endure much anxiety 
respecting the future position of her eldest son, the Duke of 
Brittany, who had much offended King Henry the Fifth ; and 
equally so on account of Prince Arthur, who, as Earl of Rich- 
mond, had violated his oath of allegiance and greatly exas- 
perated the monarch, who, therefore, was deaf to the interces- 
sions of Joanna in his behalf, and kept him in close confinement 
for many years. 

In 1417 King Henry the Fifth concluded a treaty with the 
Duke of Brittany ; he himself specifying that he does this "at 
the prayer of Joanna, that excellent and most dear lady, the 
queen our mother." 

Two years later, we find Joanna was arrested at her palace of 
Havering Bower, by order of the Duke of Bedford, then 
regent, on the extraordinary charge of having practiced against 
the king's life, while in Normandy, by means of witchcraft. Her 
chief accuser was her confessor, John Randolf , a Minorite friar, 
through whose statements King Henry resolved to proceed 
with the utmost severity against his stepmother, who, with all 
such of her household as were suspected, were committed to 
prison. The queen was first confined in the castle of Leeds, and 



JOANNA OF NAVARRE. 171 

afterward at Pevensey. She was deprived of all her rich pos- 
sesions in lands, money, furniture, and even of her wearing- 
apparel ; and her servants were dismissed hy her jailer, Sir John 
Pelham, and strangers placed about her person. One writer 
has ventured to assert that Joanna was convicted on this charge, 
but it is certain she never was permitted the opportunity of re- 
futing these dark allegations. Without any regard to justice 
she was condemned unheard, and committed to solitary confine- 
ment. The violent death of the priest Randolf forever silenced 
his evidence ; and as he was the only witness against her, this 
affair has continued a mystery. It has, however, been supposed 
that King Henry the Fifth wished to borrow large sums from 
the ample dower of his stepmother, and meeting with some re- 
sistance on her part, caused her arrest on this frivolous charge, 
which afforded him a pretense to replenish his coffers. 

The return of King Henry the Fifth with his bride, the beau- 
tiful Katherine of Valois, brought no alleviation to the suffer- 
ings of Queen Joanna ; for, although her near relative, that 
princess evinced no sympathy for her ; and even part of the 
royal dower of the prisoner was assigned over to maintain the 
state of the new queen. 

At length the mighty conqueror of France, finding his end 
approaching, was seized with remorse for the injuries he had 
inflicted on his father's widow ; and addressed the lords and 
bishops of his council, on the 13th of July, 1422, commanding 
the restitution of Queen Joanna's lands. This letter freed the 
queen, if not in words, at least in effect, from the serious charge 
under which she had been suffering. Previously to this, how- 
ever, she had been removed to Leeds Castle, and her captivity 
somewhat ameliorated. King Henry died on the 31st of 
August, 1422 ; and in the reign of his successor, Henry the 
Sixth, a petition was presented by Joanna for the complete resti- 
tution of her dower, commanded by his father, whose grants 
to other individuals had raised some difficulties in this matter. 

Queen Joanna lived many years after her restoration to lib- 
erty and her royal station. She sometimes resided at Langley, 
but her favorite retreat was Havering Bower, at which place 
she died on the 9th of July, 1437, being sixty-seven years of age. 

Joanna of Navarre had nine children by her first husband. 
Of these, two died in infancy. The eldest was Duke of Brit- 
tany; the second, the valiant Arthur, Earl of Richmond, distin- 
guished himself in France ; and her two daughters who came 



172 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

with the queen to England died soon after they were married, 
as was supposed by poison. Joanna's third son, named Jules, 
died in England in 141 2, and Richard, Count d'Estampes, sur- 
vived his mother only one year. 

Queen Joanna had no children by her second marriage. She 
was interred in Canterbury Cathedral, near the king, whom she 
survived twenty-five years. A superb altar tomb had been 
raised over the remains of her husband by Joanna, and upon 
this, side by side, the effigies of Henry the Fourth and his queen 
repose. 

The portrait of this queen gives us the idea of a very beau- 
tiful woman. She is represented as majestic and graceful, and 
her attitude that of easy dignity. Her head was very high and 
broad upwards ; her throat long and delicate, and her arms 
slender and rounded. Her features have been described as 
small, yet regular, with very long eyes and eyebrows ; a peculiar 
expression of acuteness, or intelligence, pervades the whole 
countenance, and it is impossible to discover in those sweet 
traits anything which could authorize the charges of witchcraft 
against her. Her enemies might be supposed envious of or 
troubled by those bewitching smiles, which ever cast a radiance 
around her. 



KATHERINE OF VALOIS, 

CONSORT OF HENRY THE FIFTH. 

Katherine, the daughter of Charles the Sixth of France, 
surnamed the Well-beloved, and of Isabella of Bavaria, — cette 
furie de I'etat, as Moreri calls her — was the youngest daughter 
of the twelve children which the unprincipled Isabella bore to 
her unhappy husband. She was born in the Hotel of St. Paul, 
at Paris, on the 27th of October, 1401. When but seventeen 
she was easily persuaded to adopt her mother's views, who had' 
conceived a mortal hatred to her own son Charles, and resolved 
to do all possible injury to his interests, and to promote those of 
the English in France. Accordingly Katherine abandoned her- 
self entirely to the interests of the English party, and seems to 
have been desirous to unite herself with Henry, who, when she 
was a child in the cradle, had been an unsuccessful suitor for 
the hand of her eldest sister Isabella, and since that of her own. 
Mother and daughter being of one opinion, but a brief time 
elasped before another and far more strenuous effort was made 
to arrange matrimonial matters with the covetous and ungal- 
lant invader. They went in person to meet him at Meulan, and 
dragged with them, though then very ill, the unhappy king, 
who seems to have been invariably the most humble servant of 
all his successive custodiers, and their name was Legion. How- 
ever diametrically opposite their views, he adopted them all in 
turn, not malgre, but de b'ongre, with perfect good will ; and, 
instead of opposing, he was always prompt to see with the eyes 
and hear with the ears of those who were nearest to him. The 
story of the manner in which this unhappy monarch lost his 
senses, and how he again recovered them, is one of the most 
singular things in history, but too long for detail here. Whether 
he ever did recover full possession of a sound intellect is doubt- 
ful. Rightly does Bayle select this unfortunate period as an 
illustration of what he calls "the weak side of monarchical gov- 
ernments," for, he observes, "whatever political ills may occur, 

173 



i/4 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

other constitutions are not subject to infancy, or craziness, as 
kings are." 

"When the day appointed for the conference with Henry was 
come, the king, the queen, and Princess Katherine, the Duke of 
Burgundy, and the Count de St. Pol, with the members of the 
council, escorted by a thousand combatants, went to the place 
of conference, near to Meulan, and entered the tents that were 
without the inclosure. Soon after the King of England arrived, 
attended by his brothers, the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester, 
and a thousand men-at-arms. He entered the tent that had 
been pitched for him, as the others had done; and when they 
were about to commence the conference, the queen on the right 
hand, followed by the Lady Katherine, the Duke of Burgundy, 
and the Count de St. Pol, entered the inclosure. In like man- 
ner did the King of .England, with his brothers and council, by 
another opening ; and, with a most respectful obeisance, saluted 
the queen, and then kissed her and the Lady Katherine. After 
this the Duke of Burgundy saluted the king, bending his knee 
a little, and inclining his head ; but Henry took him by the hand, 
embraced him, and showed him great respect. After they had 
remained in conference a long time, they separated, taking most 
respectful leave of each other. On the morrow three weeks 
they again met there, and remained together for several days in 
the same state, and with the same number of persons as before, 
with the exception of the Lady Katherine, who had been 
brought the first time that the King of England might see her. 
King Henry was very desirous to marry her, and not without 
cause, for she was very handsome, of high birth, and of the 
most engaging manners." 

Nevertheless, in spite of the maiden's beauty and the hero's 
admiration, his territorial acquisitiveness remained undimin- 
ished. Such was the exorbitancy of his demands, that even all 
the interest of the queen could not persuade the council to com- 
ply with them ; and the conference ended without any satisfac- 
tory result. 

Some days afterward Henry demanded a third interview at 
the Bridge of Ponthoise, but on arriving there and finding the 
tents struck, the barriers pulled down, and everything removed 
to show that the treaty was supposed to be entirely broken off, 
"the King of England was much displeased, and said indig- 
nantly to the Duke of Burgundy, the only one of the royal fam- 
ilv who had attended, 'Fair cousin, we wish you to know we 



KATHERINE OF V ALOIS. 175 

will have the daughter of your king and all that we have asked, 
or we will drive him and you out of the kingdom.' The duke 
replied, 'Sire, you are pleased to say so, but before you can 
drive my lord and me out of his kingdom, I make no doubt that 
you will be heartily tired.' " 

After this rejoinder, which certainly is not witty, and prob- 
ably therefore is literally true, they separated ; and the pros- 
pects of Henry seemed destined to be deprived of some of their 
brilliancy, when an event occurred which was productive of the 
most deplorable consequences to France and of benefit to him 
This was the assassination of the Duke of Bergundy by the 
Dauphin, who seems to have selected for the perpetration of his 
crime the very moment in which the object of it appears to have 
been awakening to a right sense of his duty to his country and 
to his sovereign. 

But, whatever were the real motives of this crime, its conse- 
quences were such as might have been anticipated by the most 
unreflecting. Philip, the son of the murdered prince, imme- 
diately succeeded to his estates and power, and devoted his 
whole energy and resources to punish the murderers of his 
father. To promote his attainment of this object, he united 
himself in a close confederacy with the queen and with Henry ; 
and the marriage of the latter with Katherine then speedily 
ceased to become a subject of difficulty. 

"At length it was concluded, by favor of the Duke of Bur- 
gundy and his party, that Charles, king of France, should give 
to Henry, king of England, his youngest daughter Katherine 
in marriage, and, in consequence of this alliance, should make 
him and his heirs successors to the throne of France after his 
decease ; thus disinheriting his own son and heir, Charles, duke 
of Touraine, and Dauphin, and annulling that principle of the 
constitution which had been, with great deliberation, resolved 
on bv former kings and peers of France, namely, that it should 
never be governed or inherited by a female, or by any one 
descended from the female line. The King of France also 
agreed that should King Henry have no issue by this marriage, 
he and his heirs were to remain successors to the crown of 
France. All this was granted by King Charles ; but, to say 
truth, he had not for some time past been in his right senses."* 

The nature of this treaty is well expressed by Shakespeare. 

*Monstrelet. 



176 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

"Katherine. Is it possible that I should love the enemy of 
France ? 

"Henry. No, it is not possible that you should love the 
enemy of France, Kate ; but in loving me, you should love the 
friend of France ; for I love France so well that I will not part 
with a single village of it ; I will have it all mine ; and, Kate, 
when France is mine, and I am yours, then yours is France, and 
you are mine." 

Shortly afterward, Henry, king of England, accompanied by 
his two brothers and many of the great lords of England, with 
about sixteen hundred combatants, the greater part of whom 
were archers, set out from Rouen and came to Ponthoise, and 
thence to St. Denis. He crossed the bridge at Charenton, and 
left part of his army to guard it, and thence advanced by Prov- 
ins to Troyes in Champagne. The Duke of Burgundy and sev- 
eral of the nobility, to show him honor and respect, came out to 
meet him, and conducted him to the hotel where he was lodged 
with his princes. Shortly after his arrival, he waited on the 
king and queen of France, and the lady Katherine their daugh- 
ter, when great honors and attentions were by them mutually 
paid. When all relating to the peace had been concluded, 
King Henry, according to the custom of France, affianced the 
lady Katherine. 

"On the morrow of Trinity-day, the King of England 
espoused her in the parish church near to which he was lodged ; 
great pomp and magnificence were displayed by him and his 
princes, as if he were at that moment king of all the world." 

Thus did the vile Isabella of France consent to disinherit her 
own- son, and Katherine her own brother, by this marriage. 
There is something monstrous in the whole arrangement. The 
King of France, a wretched maniac, signing away his own in- 
heritance, and all parties holding the nuptial festivities in the 
midst of the devastations of France. So bloody and unnatural 
a marriage was perhaps never contracted, and in blood it was 
steeped and in horror unspeakable, for within a fortnight King 
Henry butchered the whole garrison of Montereau on its sur- 
render to please his ally, called "Philip the Good" of Burgundy. 

After the conclusion of the feasts and ceremonies of the mar- 
riage, Henry and Charles, accompanied by their queens, the 
Duke of Burgundy, and the whole army, departed from the city 
of Troyes to besiege the town of Sens in Burgundy, which was 
occupied by a party of the dauphin's men. When they had taken 




0)- 






KATHERINE OF VALOIS. 177 

it, they proceeded with a similar purpose to Montereau-faut- 
Yonne. The governor, who held it for the dauphin, made a 
gallant defense, but was soon overpowered, and the place en- 
tered by assault. 

Henry then proceeded to besiege Melun, and Charles arid the 
two queens fixed their residence at Corbeil. Katherine was 
attended by the Duchess of Clarence and other noble English 
ladies, and while there she was frequently visited by her hus- 
band. But after a time Charles and the princesses were brought 
to the camp, in order that the inhabitants of Melun might be 
enticed to surrender to their own sovereign ; they replied, how- 
ever, that they would cheerfully throw open the gates to him, 
but that they would never pay obedience to a king of England, 
the ancient deadly enemy of France. Nevertheless, Charles 
continued to dwell in the camp, under the care and manage- 
ment of his son-in-law, not indeed with his former state and 
pomp, for, as Monstrelet adds, "it was a poor sight now to see 
him. But Isabella was grandly attended by ladies and damsels, 
and in company with Katherine remained for about a month in 
a house which Henry had erected for them near to his tents, 
but far enough from the town to prevent the cannon from an- 
noying them. Every day at sunrise and nightfall, eight or ten 
clarions, and divers other instruments, played most melodiously 
for an hour before their dwelling. In truth, the king of Eng- 
land was more magnificent during this siege than at any other 
during his reign." 

After the surrender of Melun, the two kings, attended by the 
Dukes of Clarence, Burgundy, Bedford and Exeter, went to 
Paris. A numerous body of citizens, in handsome array, came 
out to meet them, and the streets were covered and ornamented 
with very rich cloths. Charles and Henry rode side by side, 
and on their entrance carols were sung in all the squares through 
which they passed. As they advanced, they met different pro- 
cessions of the clergy on foot, who halted, and then presented 
the holy relics borne by them to be kissed by the two kings. 
When they were first offered to the French monarch, he turned 
toward Henry and made him a sign to kiss them ; but with 
equal courtesy, this sovereign, putting his hand to his head, and 
bowing to King Charles, replied, "That he would kiss them 
after him." This order was adopted, and practiced all the way 
to the church of Notre Dame, where the monarchs and attend- 
ant princes dismounted and entered the church. 



178 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

The two queens made their entry into Paris on the ensuing 
day, when the Duke of Burgundy, with many English lords, 
went out^to meet them. Great joy was displayed on their 
arrival, and numberless presents were offered by the city of 
Paris to the monarchs, but especially to Henry and Katherine. 
The whole of the day and night wine was constantly running 
c hrough brass cocks in the squares in such abundance that all 
might partake of it ; and the chroniclers add, "More rejoic- 
ings were made throughout Paris than tongue can tell, for the 
peace that had been made between the two kings." 

At the feast of the Nativity, Henry and Charles, with their 
queens and households, kept open court at Paris ; the former at 
the Louvre, and the latter at the Hotel de St. Pol. But their 
state was very different ; for that of the French monarch was 
poor and mean, and he was attended only by persons of low 
degree and some old servants, while of his victorious antagon- 
ist and Katherine, the magnificence was unbounded. The 
highest nobility came from all parts to do them honor, and 
from that day Henry took on himself the whole government of 
the kingdom, appointing officers at his pleasure, and dismissing 
those to whom their monarch and the late Duke of Burgundy 
had given appointments. 

When the festivities were concluded, the English prince and 
his fair consort, with a gorgeous retinue, proceeded to Rouen, 
accompanied by the Dukes of Clarence and Bedford, and the 
Red Duke of Bavaria, who had married Henry's sister, and 
had come to support him with five hundred men-at-arms. When 
the public affairs had been arranged in that town, the sov- 
ereigns departed thence, and repaired to Amiens, where they 
were received enthusiastically and magnificently ; and very cost- 
ly presents were made by the municipality to the consort of their 
king-elect. Thence they continued their journey to Calais, 
where they stayed a few days, and then crossed the Channel to 
England, his subjects cheering their victorious prince, as if, 
says Monstrelet, "he had been an angel. He lost no time after 
his arrival in having Katherine crowned queen of England in 
the city of London. The coronation was performed 
with such splendid magnificence that the like had never 
been seen at any coronation since the time of that 
noble knight, Arthur, king of the English and Bretons." It is 
recorded that the only evidence of a spirit of kindness existing 
in Queen Katherine was exhibited by her at this coronation 



KATHERINE OF VALOIS. 179 

feast, where she interceded with Henry for the liberation of the 
captive youthful monarch of Scotland, James the First, the 
author of the quaint ancient poem called "The Quair." The 
queen not only succeeded in her request, on condition that 
James should assist Henry in prosecuting the conquest of 
France, but obtained his bethrothal to the lady to whom he was 
passionately attached — Joanna Beaufort. After this ceremony 
King Henry made a progress to the principal towns of his 
realm, and explained to them with much eloquence what grand 
deeds he had performed through his prowess in France, and 
what yet remained to be done for the complete conquest of 
that kingdom, namely, the subjugation of his adversary the 
Dauphin of Vienne, only son to King Charles, and brother to 
Katherine, who styled himself heir to the crown, and regent 
of France, and kept possession of the greater part of the coun- 
try. To complete this conquest, he said, only two things were 
necessary — money and men ; and these requisites were so lib- 
erally granted, that he very soon collected larger sums than 
had ever before been seen, and they could scarcely be counted. 
At this time Katherine obtained a very fantastic addition to 
her society in London in the person of an errant damsel and 
princess ; for a quarrel having occurred between John Duke of 
Brabant and his duchess, Jacqueline of Bavaria, she left his 
palace. "The principal reasons for her so doing were com- 
monly reported to be, that she found him of poor understand- 
ing, and that he suffered himself to be governed by persons of 
low degree. The Duke of Burgundy, who was equally related 
to both, and her mother, the Countess of Hainault, vainly at- 
tempted to reconcile them. She declared that she would find 
means to effect a divorce, so that she might marry some person 
who would pay attention to her becoming her rank. The 
duchess was at this time in the flower of her youth, beautiful, 
well made, and as fully accomplished as any lady of her age. 
After- having resided with her mother for a short time, they pro- 
ceeded together to Valenciennes, where the duchess took leave 
of her, and went, as she said, to amuse herself in the town of 
Brabant ; but on the morrow she departed thence very early in 
the morning, and was met on the plain by the Lord d'Escaillan, 
a native of Hainault, but an Englishman in his heart. With him 
she had held many conferences while at Valenciennes, and he 
had promised to escort her to London, to seek redress from King 
Henry, and to concert with him as to the best means to be rid of 



i8o THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

her husband. In company with this knight, who had about sixty 
horsemen with him, she took the road to Calais, whence after 
some stay she crossed over to England, where she was most 
honorably received by the king, who made her general prom- 
ises of aid in all her concerns. 

This eccentric personage is she who afterwards occasioned 
so much political confusion by her fatally precipitate marriage 
with the Duke of Gloucester. To this union, which may be de- 
nominated absurdly rash, for it occurred while her first husband 
was still living, historians generally attribute the disasters 
which afterwards befell the English in France, as it is sup- 
posed to have alienated from their alliance the Duke of Bur- 
gundy. This conjecture, however, will admit of much ques- 
tioning; but, as this is not the place to investigate it, we will 
proceed to narrate the proceedings of Henry, whose return to 
France was disagreeably hastened by the unlucky battle of 
Bauge, in which his brother, the Duke of Clarence, was killed., 
He disembarked at Calais with an army of twenty-four thou- 
sand archers and from three to four thousand men-at-arms, 
and thence proceeded to Montes to meet the Duke of Burgundy. 
With this prince it was arranged that he should return to 
Picardy to oppose Sir John Harcourt, and that the king should 
attack Dreux. After the surrender of this place, he besieged 
Meaux, where he heard of the accouchement of Katherine, 
whiom he had left behind him in England, of a son and heir 
to the two kingdoms. It is singular that Henry, before quitting 
England, had strictly enjoined the queen not to let the expected 
heir be born at Windsor, The queen, however, disobeyed this 
command ; the child was born at Windsor, and on the king anx- 
iously inquiring, on receiving the news, where the boy had been 
born, and being answered at Windsor, he sighed, and immedi- 
ately recited a well-known rhyme, importing that he himself 
should have a short reign and get much, but that his son should 
have a long reign and lose all. Most probably this prophecy, 
which had come to his knowledge, was the cause of his prohibi- 
tion of Windsor as the child's birthplace. Be that as it may, it 
was singularly fulfilled, possibly hasting its own accomplish- 
ment. The royal infant was, by command of his father, baptized 
Henry, and one of his sponsors was the whimsical Jacqueline. 
The birth of his son gave unbounded gratification to the king, 
and the rejoicings throughout England were on an unprece- 
dented scale of pomp. 



KATHERINE OF VALOIS. 



I8l 



After the surrender of Meaux, "Katherine, Queen of Eng- 
land, arrived at Harfleur in grand state, attended by 
ladies without number, and escorted by a large fleet 
filled with men-at-arms and archers, under the command 
of the Duke of Bedford, brother to the king. On landing, she 
went to Rouen, and thence to Vincennes to meet the king. 
Queen Katherine traveled in royal state, always accompanied 
by the Duke of Bedford and the men-at-arms. King Henry de- 
parted from Meaux with his friends to meet her, and she was 
received. by them as if she had been an angel from heaven. 
Great rejoicings were made by the King and Queen of France 
for the happy arrival of their son-in-law and daughter, and on 
the thirtieth -day of May, Whitsun-eve, the Kings of France 
and of England, accompanied by their queens, left Vincennes, 
and entered Paris with much pomp. The King and Queen of 
France were lodged at the Hotel St. Pol and the King of Eng- 
land at the Louvre. In each of these places the two kings 
solemnly celebrated the feast of Pentecost, which fell on the 
day after their arrival. • 

"On this day the King and Queen of England were seated at 
table, gorgeously appareled, having crowns on their heads. 
The English princes, dukes, knights, and prelates were par- 
takers of the feast, each seated according to his rank, and 
the tables were covered with the rarest viands and choicest 
wines. The king and queen this day held a grand court, 
which was attended by all the English in Paris ; and the 
Parisians went to the Castle of the Louvre to see the king and 
queen at table, crowned with their most precious diamonds ; 
but as no meat or drink was offered to the populace, they went 
away much discontented ; for in former times, when the kings 
of France kept open court, meat and drink were distributed 
plentifully to all comers by the king's servants. 

King Charles had indeed been as liberal and courteous as his 
predecessors, but he was now seated in his Hotel of St. Pol 
at table with his queen, deserted by the grandees and others 
of his subjects. The government and power of his kingdom 
were now transferred into the hands of his son-in-law, King 
Henry ; and he had so little share, that he was managed as 
the King of England pleased, and no attention was paid him, 
which created much sorrow in the hearts of all loyal French- 
men, and not without cause."* 



*Monstrelet, ch. cclxi. 



182 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Poor King Charles ! He was one of those unfortunate per- 
sonages who seem born expressly to make manifest how much 
of ingratitude, selfishness, and meanness exist in the majority 
of mankind. 

The royal families then departed from Paris, and went to 
Senlis, where they made some stay. Thence Henry repaired to 
Compiegne, where, learning that a plot had been formed to 
betray the city of Paris to the adherents of the dauphin, he 
hastened to that city and detected and punished the conspira- 
tors. He then returned to Senlis, where the malady that 
occasioned his death manifested itself most painfully. Never- 
theless, he took leave of the King and Queen of France, and of 
his own consort, and proceeded to Melun in a Utter, in order 
that he might join his army on the day appointed for a battle 
between the dauphin and the Duke of Burgundy. But he 
daily grew so much weaker, that he was forced to return to 
the castle of Vincennes, where Katherine was, and where he 
terminated his martial and adventurous life. Previous to his 
dissolution he gave some excellent political advice, which was 
not adopted. 

Katherine, who was yet only in her twenty-first . year, in- 
dulged in violent grief for the loss of her lord, and followed, 
in great state, the funeral procession from Paris to London. 
The body of the king was laid in a chariot drawn by four great 
horses. There was also a figure dressed resembling him, in 
royal state, in purple and ermine, crowned, and bearing the 
scepter and globe in its hand. This representation of the 
great warrior king was placed over the corpse, in a splendid 
bed in the chariot, and a magnificent canopy was held over it 
by men of note, and in this state the funeral passed through 
the various towns till it reached Calais — the King of Scots 
attending as chief mourner, besides a vast number of nobles 
and captains of renown, bearing hatchments, and others bear- 
ing banners. Around the bier were four hundred men-at-arms 
in block armor and with reversed lances. At a mile's distance 
followed the queen, with a vast retinue, keeping always within 
view of the light of the great wax-torches which encompassed 
the procession. At Dover she was met by fifteen bishops in 
their pontificial habits, and by a great concourse of mitered 
abbots and priests, with a vast concourse of people. All the 
way from Blackheath, and through London, the priests 
chanted, and the people at their doors, each holding a torch, 



KATHERINE OF VALOIS. 183 

formed a unique illumination. Such was the solemn magnifi- 
cence of the obsequies with which Katherine lamented her 
lord. She raised also to his memory a tomb of surpassing 
grandeur. At his interment, "and in regard to everything 
concerning it," says Monstrelet, "greater pomp and expense 
was made than had been done for two hundred years at the 
burial of any king of England; and even now as much honor 
and reverence are daily paid to his tomb, as if it were certain 
he was a saint in paradise. Thus ended the life of King 
Henry in the flower of his age, for when he died he was but 
forty years old. He was very wise and able in every business 
he undertook, and of a determined character. During the 
seven or eight years he ruled in France he made greater con- 
quests than any of his predecessors had ever done. It is true he 
was so feared by his princes and captains that none dared to 
disobey his orders, however, nearly related to him, more espe- 
cially his English subjects. In this state of obedience were his 
subjects of France and of England; and the principal cause 
was, that if any person transgressed his ordinances he had 
been instantly punished without favor or mercy." 

The unfortunate Charles terminated his career within less 
than two months after the decease of his son-in-law. This 
event occasioned the Parisians to send an embassy to the 
infant Henry and to Katherine, to entreat that they would 
order that a sufficient force should proceed to France to 
oppose the daily advances of the new king, late dauphin of 
Vienne. Though the person to thwarted was her brother, 
the proposition was joyfully received by Katherine, and the 
envoys were faithfully promised speedy and effectual succor. 

For about three years Katherine appeared in public, on 
the opening of parliament, and such occasions, with the infant 
king in her carriage, or seated in her lap, in great state, and 
much to the delight of the people. 

The Earl of Warwick was appointed guardian of the infant 
king, and, soon after, Katherine disappeared from public life, 
and that so completely, that for thirteen years there are no 
state documents which record her actions. The fact is, 
that she had married Owen .Tudor, a Welshman, who, though 
claiming a princely origin, had been occupying no higher sta- 
tion than a common soldier in the Welsh band which fought 
under Henry, her late husband, in France. Tradition ascribed 
his advancement to the degree of Esquire, to his bravery at 



184 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Agincourt, where Henry the Fifth appointed him, for his 
merit, one of the squires of his body. He was still in this 
station, keeping guard over the queen and her infant son at 
Windsor, when, by his handsome person, he attracted the 
attention of Katherine. Being called upon to dance before 
the court on some festive occasion, Owen made a stumble 
and fell into the queen's lap, as she sat in a low seat 
amongst her ladies ; and the good humored manner in 
which she excused this awkwardness, first raised a suspicion 
amongst the court ladies of her liking for him. The marriage 
gave the greatest offense to the late king's courtiers, and 
especially to the Duke of Gloucester, who had been appointed 
protector. It was kept as profoundly secret as possible by 
Katherine ; and on the first suspicion, not of the actual fact, 
but of the danger of it, a severe statute was enacted in the 
sixth year of her son's reign, forbidding, under heavy penal- 
ties, any one to marry a queen-dowager, or any lady holding 
lands of the crown, without the consent of the king and his 
council. There can be little doubt but that the marriage had 
taken place some time before, and this law would only tend 
to the more strictly maintaining secrecy as to their connection. 
It was never recognized by the government ; Katherine always 
styled herself the widow of Henry the Fifth; and her son, 
Henry the Sixth, never acknowledged Owen Tudor as his 
father-in-law, though he received him after he attained his 
majority, into considerable favor, and raised two out of the 
three sons of Tudor and Katherine to rank and fortune. The 
Duke of Gloucester, the brother of Henry the Fifth, and 
uncle of Henry the Sixth, appears to have been most especially 
incensed at the queen-dowager's marriage with Owen Tudor. 
It was in vain that Tudor boasted of descent from Cadwalla- 
der kings, and asserted that he was of the line of the old prince. 
Theodore, which the Saxon pronunciation had corrupted to 
Tudor, and even vulgarized to Tidder; he was regarded of 
mean station. Rapin declares that his father was a brewer, of 
Beaumaris ; and Pennant will not allow him to have been more 
than scutifer, or shield-bearer to the Bishop of Bangor. After 
Katherine had had four children by him, three sons and one 
daughter, in the year 1436, fourteen years after her royal 
husband's death, the Duke of Gloucester succeeded in separat- 
ing Katherine and Owen Tudor. Katherine was compelled to 
retire to the Abbev of Bermondsev ; her three sons were torn 



KATHERINE OF VALOIS. .185 

from her, and conveyed to the keeping of a sister of the 
Earl of Suffolk ; her daughter had lived only a few days ; and 
Owen Tudor, her husband, was thrown into Newgate. 

This cruel persecution appears to have broken Katherine's 
heart; she became very ill, and in her weakness and dejection 
grievously laid to heart her perverseness in having disobeyd 
the injunction of her royal husband Henry the Fifth, and 
given birth to Henry the Sixth at Windsor. Those misfor- 
tunes, which Henry had prophesied, were rapidly fulfilling. 
The English had evacuated Paris, and were fast losing town 
after town in France. Katherine's mother, Queen Isabeau, 
had recently died neglected and despised, scarcely any one 
being found to bury her. From that which had thus come to 
pass, Katherine, in her feebleness and sorrow, might naturally 
look forward to calamity falling on her son, as the necessary 
sequence of belief in the truth of the prognostication. But a 
few days before her death she dictated a will, addressed to 
the king her son, full of melancholy, but not even then men- 
tioning Owen Tudor as her wedded husband. She died Feb- 
ruary, 1437, but a few months after her entrance to the Abbey 
of Bermondsey; and was buried in Our Lady's Chapel, West- 
minster Abbey, in a stately tomb, bearing a Latin epitaph, 
which, as it represented her as widow of Henry the Fifth, is 
supposed to have been purposely destroyed by Henry the 
Seventh, as directly denying the legitimacy cf his father. The 
fate of Kathc ine after death was strange in the extreme. Her 
remains we exhumed when Henry the Seventh was interred, 
and continued unburied till the commencement of the pres- 
ent century. In three hundred years her body was shown 
as a curiosity to any persons visiting Westminster Abbey. It 
remained in a wonderful state of preservation. Pepys boasts 
of having kissed it; and it was not till late in the reign of 
George the Third that it was consigned to one of the vaults. 

After Katherine's death, her husband was vigorously per- 
secuted. He escaped from Newgate, and retired into Wales ; 
but his indefatigable enemy, Gloucester, again secured him 
by treachery, and, in spite of a safe conduct, threw him into a 
dungeon of Wallingford Castle, and then brought him back 
to Newgate. Once more Tudor broke loose from Newgate, 
and, reaching his native mountains, was not retaken. On 
Henry the Sixth arriving at power, though he never acknowl- 
edged Owen Tudor as his step- father, he appointed him keeper 



186 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

of the royal parks in Wales ; and when Henry's own troubles 
with the house of York arrived, Owen stoutly did battle for 
him, and being taken prisoner, was beheaded in Hereford 
market-place. 

The third son of Katherine by Owen Tudor became a monk 
of Westminster, where he lived and died in the habit. The 
eldest son, Edward, was made Duke of Richmond, with pre 
dence over all other' English peers. He died in his twentieth 
year, but left an infant son, who became Henry the Seventh. 
The next son of Katherine, Jasper Tudor, was created Earl of 
Pembroke. Had Katherine lived till this period, it is evident 
that Henry would have treated her with the affection of a 
son. As it was, he behaved like a most noble brother to the 
sons of her second marriage, and- never forgave Gloucester 
for his harsh treatment of herself. 



MARGARET OF ANJOU, 

QUEEN OF HENRY THE SIXTH. 

Margaret, daughter of Rene of Anjou, subsequently King of 
Sicily, and Isabella of Lorraine, was the youngest of her par- 
ents' five children, and, according to history, the most favored 
by nature of them all. Her grandmother was Yoland, or Viol- 
ante, of Arragon (at this time a constant visitant at the French 
court), and the Spanish blood thus intermingled did not slum- 
ber in this one, at least, of her descendants. Margaret's own 
mother, a scion of the line of Charlemagne, was also as spirited 
as she was beautiful ; but Rene himself, so unfortunate in his 
career, appears to have naturally approximated more closely to 
the future consort of his daughter, being devoted to the refine- 
ments of art, and attached to the peaceful enjoyments of do- 
mestic life. The members of this family were united to each 
other by bonds of the strongest affection ; and Margaret, we 
are told, was alike the favorite and admiration of France and 
themselves. Possessed of "a masculine, courageous spirit, of 
an enterprising temper, endowed with solidity as well as vivac- 
ity of understanding, she had not been able to conceal those 
great talents even in the privacy" of her father's narrowed 
court, "and it was reasonable to expect that when she should 
mount the throne they would break out with still superior 
luster." She was, says Hume, "the most accomplished woman 
of her age, both in body and mind, and seemed to possess 
those qualities which would equally qualify her to acquire the 
ascendant over Henry and to supply all his defects and weak- 
nesses." With these attractions it is not extraordinary that 
other proposals, anterior to those of the King of England, 
had been made for the hand of the Infanta (as she was called 
among the Provencals) ; and, indeed, the gallant Count de St. 
Pol, and the Duke of Burgundy's handsome nephew, Count 
de Nevers, are both mentioned as favored lovers of Margaret ; 
in fact, to the first she is reported to have been engaged ; but 

187 



1 88 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

both these alliances were abandoned finally for the more splen- 
did prospects opened by Suffolk's embassy, nor do we find any 
record of reluctance upon her part to acquiesce in her father's 
acceptance. Margaret, who was born March 23, 1429, was 
about fifteen when this contract took place. 

The treaty had been signed at Tours, the then residence 
of the court, where Rapin, quoting Hall, Biondi. and others, 
states the marriage to have been celebrated, although the father 
and mother of Margaret having been united at Nanci it is on 
this, as well as upon other accounts, most probable that those 
authorities which fix the last-mentioned city as the scene of the 
nuptials are correct. A notice of the event, comprised in a 
dozen lines of Monstrelet's chronicle, states that here "with the 
king were Rene, king of Sicily, and numbers of great lords 
and knights, the queens of France and Sicily, the dauphiness, 
and the daughter of Rene, whom the Earl of Suffolk had 
come with a splendid embassy to demand in marriage for the 
King of England. After a few discussions everything was 
agreed on ; but before their departure with the new queen a 
magnificent tournament was held, in which the Kings of France 
and Sicily, the Lord Charles d'Anjou, the Counts de Foix 
and de St. Pol, the Lord Ferry de Lorraine, and several other 
lords, tilted ; these feasts lasted eight days, and the ladies 
were most splendidly dressed." The Lord Ferry of Lor- 
raine, as he is here called, had recently married Margaret's 
only sister, having eloped with her upon the occasion of 
this very tournament, since a steady disinclination was mani- 
fested by the family to his long-projected suit ; and the re- 
bellious though forgiven pair accompanied the Queen of Eng- 
land as far as Bar le Due, where, we are told, "Rene and 
her mother took leave of her with floods of tears, and pray- 
ers for her welfare." Two leagues from Nanci the King 
and Queen of France had previously parted with their niece, 
"with many tears, and recommended her to the protection of 
God ; their grief was so great that they could not speak."* 

Although the marriage had taken place in the month of No- 
vember, delays upon her transit from Nanci rendered it the 
end of March or the beginning of the following April before 
Margaret landed at Porchester, whence, proceeding to South- 
ampton, she was seized with a sudden and serious indisposi- 
tion, which again protracted her meeting with her royal con- 

*Monstrelet. 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 189 

sort. According to Stow and others, Henry had been awaiting 
her at Southwick, where, on the 22nd of April, 1445, the mar- 
riage was personally solemnized ; the ring used on this occa- 
sion being made from one "of gold, garnyshed with a fayr 
rubie, sometime yeven unto us by our bel oncle the Cardinal of 
Englande, with the which we were sacred on the day of our 
coronation at Parys, delivered unto Mathew Phelip to breke, 
and thereof to make an other ryng for the quene's wedding- 
ring."* It was here on the very spot of her marriage, that 
the youthful queen came first into contact with those troubled 
elements which were to render her life one long source of 
tempests and calamities. The court at this time was rent by the 
contending factions of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, the 
king's uncle, and the protector of the realm, and Cardinal Beau- 
fort, the king's great uncle. Each of these noblemen was 
anxious to ally the king so as to strengthen their own party. 
Gloucester had been in treaty with the Count of Armagne for 
his daughter, and, it is said, had gone so far as a betrothal ; but 
Cardinal Beaufort defeated his rival's object by bringing to 
the young king's knowledge, the beauty and accomplishments 
of Margaret of Anjou, niece of Louis XL, king of France. So 
much was Henry enamored of the picture and the descriptions 
which he received of Margaret, that he hurried on the negotia- 
tion with youthful precipitance, and even sacrificed for the 
accomplishment, the province of Maine, the key of Normandy, 
for which his father had shed so much blood. The Duke of 
Gloucester was, of course, highly incensed at the triumph of 
the measures of the Beaufort faction over his own, and in 
which Margaret was so innocently involved. Yet Gloucester, 
whose near relationship inferred a due amount of courtesy, 
seeming to have forgotten his disinclination to the match in his 
desire to show every mark of honor to his new sovereign, met 
her at Blackheath, and on the following Friday, May 28, con- 
ducted her in triumph to London, "attended (Stow says) 
by the mayor, aldermen, and sheriffs of the city, and the crafts 
of the same on horseback." Another tournament completed 
the celebration of the event, which was distinguished by a 
costly magnificence and display hardly justified by the empty 
state of the exchequer on both sides, and somewhat in con- 
trast with the scantiness of the young queen's personal ward- 
robe. 



*Fce>.'era, vol. xi., p. 76. 



190 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

"The natures of the late married couple were, if not opposite, 
sufficiently differing ; the husband was of a womanish inclina- 
tion, the wife of a manlike spirit ; the king was humble, devout, 
spiritually-given, caring only for his soul's health ; the queen 
was proud, ambitious, worldly-given, and not to be quieted, 
till, having brought the kingdom to be governed as she pleased, 
she might see herself free from rivals in the government. The 
Duke of Gloucester was no ways pleasing to her, as well for 
"hat he had opposed her marriage — an injury not to be forgot- 
ten — as likewise that her husband, being long since out of his 
minority, was still governed by him as formerly when he was 
under age."* This dissonance of taste and feeling, corrobor- 
ated by every contemporary and subsequent writer, affords 
sufficient ground, even perhaps upon the score of necessity, 
for the independence assumed by Margaret in public affairs 
from the outset of her career, without reference to the instiga- 
tions of Beaufort, Suffolk, Buckingham, Somerset and others, 
who, through her instrumentality, attempted to promote their 
own political and private schemes. 

So long as the secret article of the matrimonial negotiation 
(which relinquished the province of Maine, "the bulwark of 
Normandy") remained undiscussed, the Marquis of Suffolk- 
was lauded to the skies for the part he had taken in obtaining 
a queen for the nation who seemed likely to secure its admira- 
tion and regard ; but though the obnoxious topic had been 
hitherto studiously avoided, the rapid approach of the conclu- 
sion of the truce enforced the necessity of fulfilling its condi- 
tions. It was evident to Beaufort and his party, that so long as 
Gloucester opposed the relinquishment of Maine, as a measure 
most impolitic and fraught with fatal issue to the best interests 
of the crown, there could be no prospect of success, and there- 
fore the removal of this powerful opponent to his public plans, 
and the object alike of his undying hatred, even by the foul 
means of treachery and murder, did not appall the unrelenting 
cardinal. 

We readily avail ourselves of the discrepancies of historians 
upon this point to exonerate the queen from participation in 
so horrible a tragedy. Rapin, who in his eagerness to con- 
demn her, forfeits all claim to impartiality, asserts that she 
"first encouraged the resolution ;" and Biondi surmises that 
by "Gloucester's death the queen thought to have established 

*Biondi. 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 191 

her authority." The mind is indeed too fully awakened to a 
sense of the fell cruelty of some, "who even on their death-beds 
play the ruffian," not gladly to take refuge in every rational 
pretext from the supposition that revenge should ever so unsex 
the feminine character ; in the case of Margaret, however, we 
have every presumption for her innocence, not only from the 
readiness of popular fury to involve the highest personages 
in the crimes of their subordinates, but also because it is admit- 
ted that her "usual activity and spirit made the public conclude 
that the duke's enemies durst not have ventured upon such a 
deed without her privity." In fact, by no means a favorable 
writer is compelled to acknowledge, that if Margaret connived 
at the murder she must have evinced an "ignorance in things 
to come," strangely at variance with her characteristic fore- 
sight, for this act "threw her headlong upon those evils which 
with the price of her own blood she would willingly have re- 
deemed ;" and by it she "lost all that she could lose, her life 
excepted, her husband, son, and kingdom." The prejudice, 
however, of political partisanship caused the sentiments of the 
public to run strongly against the queen, and the stigma affixed 
to the plotters of the duke's death became indelible, no less 
from the excellence of the victim, than from the treachery of 
the crime. It was at first deemed advisable to lure the duke 
to his destruction by specious overtures of friendship, which, 
inducing his distrust, might urge him to compromise himself 
by some undisguised act of retaliation. But this plan failing 
through the probity of his own conduct and intentions, in the 
second year of the queen's marriage a parliament was called, 
first at Cambridge and afterwards at St. Edmundsbury (in 
preference to London, where Gloucester's popularity would 
have protected him), and shortly after his appearance there he 
not only found himself accused of high treason, but discov- 
ered that the king's mind had been so abused to his prejudice, 
that, without being permitted an opportunity of exculpation, 
he was committed to close confinement, nor even suffered to 
retain his usual attendants. Seventeen days afterwards he was 
found dead in his bed ; and though the public exposure of his 
body — the plausible evidence of his having sustained no violent 
end — was resorted to (an a* c so successfully tried in former 
cases, but of itself sufficient to excite suspicion), the universal 
belief that he had been murdered remained unshaken ; which 
conviction acquired strength from the circumstance of the sud- 



192 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

den decease of his arch-enemy Beaufort, "a prelate much more 
proper for the world than the Church," only eight weeks 
subsequently. 

Crime is from its very nature short-sighted, and the enemies 
of the Duke of Gloucester soon experienced this truth by the 
influx of results inimical to their wishes and anticipations. So 
long as the duke, the heir presumptive to the crown, continued 
alive, the popular voice would have been too strongly in his 
favor to admit of the pretensions, however well founded, of 
another ; but as his death removed an important safeguard 
from the reigning monarch, so it encouraged the Duke of York, 
descended from a branch senior to the house of Lancaster, to 
an indirect attempt upon the succession, by securing an exten- 
sive interest in his claims, although not appearing personally 
on the scene. To increase also the national discontent, Ed- 
mund, Duke of Somerset, who had been some time since 
appointed governor of Normandy, was obliged to dismiss the 
greater portion of his troops from want of pecuniary supplies ; 
and Charles of France, by a diligent employment of the period 
of the truce, having collected and disciplined fresh forces, re- 
newed the war with England, with the success which might 
have been anticipated. This and a complication of other cir- 
cumstances conspired to render the childless queen of England 
apparently devoted to the interests of her own relatives in 
France, and at the same time careless of those at home ; and 
the unfavorable impression, studiously fomented by the duke's 
party, drew upon Margaret daily increasing odium and mis- 
trust. Suffolk, advanced by the queen to the rank of duke, 
was branded with the appellation of "the favorite," and it was 
complained that the council had been filled, at his suggestion, 
by her partisans, under the king's authority, without the small- 
est consideration of their fitness for the posts to which they 
were promoted, until the general tumult reached its acme 
upon the expulsion of the English from France, and the entire 
loss of possessions, some of which had been united to the 
crown of England for a period of three centuries. 

The Duke of York had meanwhile been removed from the 
more public arena, and sent to quell a rebellion in Ireland ; and 
here not only did he distinguish himself by the skill and credit 
of his administration but "so assuaged the fury of the wild and 
savage people, that he won such favor among them as could 
never be separated from him and his lineage." Richard, a 




vLa4&a> l af^j erf-, tJT^H mu2 
Giwurv to Bituy li. 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 193 

prince of valor and abilities, "of a prudent conduct and mild 
disposition" added to the dangerous popularity such qualities 
inspired, was likely from his wealth and connection to prove 
a most formidable opponent. The former resulted from the 
union of many successions, "those of Cambridge and York on 
the one hand, with those of Mortimer on the other, which last 
inheritance had been before augmented by an union of the 
estates of Clarence and Ulster with the patrimonial possessions 
of the family of March." His duchess was a Neville, daughter 
of Ralph, Earl of Westmoreland, a house whose influence was 
hourly increasing; and the Earl of Devonshire, the Duke of 
Norfolk, Lord Cobham, with many others, were already pre- 
pared to unite with its nobles in espousing the Yorkist cause. 

The commencement of the year 1450 saw the popular com- 
motion reach its height, and Suffolk, who could expect but lit- 
tle sympathy from the aristocracy, ill brooking, in their sensi- 
tiveness of hereditary pride, the exaltation of a merchant's 
grandson to the highest honors in the realm, seemed blindly 
resolved to brave the universal hostility so speedily to issue 
in its fall. This once determined upon, as common in such 
cases, no pause was allowed for reflection upon the honor or 
humanity of the means. Nevertheless, the queen's power, 
so decisively used in his behalf, rendered the accomplishment of 
Suffolk's ruin no easy task ; for Margaret spared not endeavors 
to secure his safety, but herself suggested his temporary ban- 
ishment, and furthered his escape to France. How terribly her 
efforts were frustrated appears in the end of the unfortunate 
duke. At the moment when he imagined himself safe, perhaps 
from superstitious reliance upon the verity of a prediction 
which had declared that he should die in the Tower, he was 
intercepted near Dover, by emissaries sent to destroy him, in a 
vessel called "St. Nicholas of the Tower," his head was struck 
off and his body thrown into the sea ; neither do we find that 
"any inquiry was made after the accomplices in this atrocious 
deed," though we may well conceive that Margaret deeply de- 
plored the loss of this her first English friend, devoted to her, 
as was also his duchess, and that she was unrelaxingly, though 
silently, meditating schemes of vengeance towards the perpe- 
trators, well known, though at present beyond her reach. 

She was, nevertheless, also meditating schemes of advant- 
age to the nation. She commenced the foundation of Queen's 
College, Cambridge, which was dedicated by the royal found- 



ip4 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

ress to her patroness, St. Margaret, and St. Bernard. She 
also endeavored to introduce manufacturers of woolen and 
silk goods, and had peace been her lot, there is little doubt that 
she would have proved one of the most able public-spirited 
queens which England has ever possessed. 

Hitherto the popular tumults incident upon the previous 
events had been suppressed with comparative ease, but- the in- 
surrection of Cade, formidable from the .secret connivance of 
the Duke of York, added to a pestilence which broke out about 
this time, "swallowed up all concern for France, in the com- 
motion which afflicted England, and shook the throne of 
Henry." The king, accompanied by his consort, had gone out 
to meet the insurgents, but, dreading carnage, was only too 
glad to avail himself of the news of their retreat to relinquish 
the command and retrace his steps to London. This conduc'* 
inspired the rebels with fresh courage, and the result was a 
success over the royal troops, which induced the council to 
urge the precipitate flight of their majesties to Kenilworth ; nor 
was peace restored, until, by the intervention of Kempe, Arch- 
bishop of York, and chancellor, certain conditions had been 
allowed to the rebels, prior to their laying down their arms 
and the death of Cade, who was subsequently killed, which 
conditions Margaret, with ill-advised laxity of honor, after- 
wards attempted to infringe. 

At this time was it, when threatened by all the sad disasters 
of civil war, and smarting under the loss of Guienne, and its 
attendant bloodshed in France, that Margaret became a 
mother ; but the birth of this first, and, as it proved, only child, 
was regarded with no pleasure by the nation, and seemed 
fated to be the augury of fresh misfortunes to its parents ; 
occurring simultaneously with the illness of the king, who 
fell sick at Clarendon, in Wiltshire" and shortly after confirmed 
the fears of his friends by evincing decided mental aberration. 
These circumstances probably induced the Duke of York to 
relinquish at once all disguise, and to assume a more deter- 
mined position ; he is said to have cast doubts upon the legiti- 
macy of the infant prince, which probably he himself in sin- 
cerity did not entertain. At all events, the appearance of 
youngEdward removed the last scruple in asserting his claim 
to a crown, which he might patiently have awaited until the 
death of the sickly monarch, but would not calmly surrender 
to the present unexpected succession. Queen Margaret was 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 195 

not yet twenty-four years of age when this her only child 
was born. The hapless prince was born on the 13th of Oc- 
tober, 1453, at Westminster, to which palace his royal sire had 
been removed, and was lying utterly incapable of recognizing 
the intelligence of an event, which he otherwise might have 
looked upon as 

*' the rainbow of his future years," 

in the midst of darkness and sorrow. 

But the king's malady was productive of serious political 
embarrassment to the queen and her partisans, besides the 
infliction of domestic distress ; for, unsupported by the shadow 
of Henry's authority, which hitherto had sanctioned all her 
measures, Margaret was compelled to yield a tacit consent to 
those laid down for her, in the imprisonment of the Duke of 
Somerset and the appointment of York as protector. In fact, 
the former was "arrested in the queen's great chamber," and 
sent to the Tower, where, as Stow quaintly observes, "he kept 
his Christmas with great solemnity." York, meanwhile, "bear- 
ing all the rule, governed as regent ;" but when all for a period 
appeared lost, the king unexpectedly "recovered, caused the 
Duke of Somerset to be set at liberty, and preferred him to be 
captain of Calais, wherewith not only the Commons, but many 
of the nobility, favorers of Richard, Duke of York, were greatly 
grieved and offended, saying that he had lost Normandy, and 
would lose also Calais."* 

York, from the contrariety of occurrences to his wishes, and 
foiled in his last expedient for preserving peace, hurried by his 
party into measures which his own moderation reprehended, 
after an unsuccessful attempt at the arbitration of his quarrel 
with Somerset, retired into Wales, and employed himself in 
raising an army, soon to strike the first blow in the memora- 
ble contest between the rival Red and White Roses, which 
plucked from the bosom of the isle "the pale and maiden blos- 
som" — peace, and "incarnadined" the green fields of England 
with the blood of her noblest children. 

After the battle of St. Alban's, which was fought on the 23rd 
of May, 1455, and lasted but an hour, the king was taken pris- 
oner by the Duke of York, and having sustained a slight 
wound, was conducted with much care to London ; while the 
death of Somerset, who, with Lords Clifford, Strafford and 
Northumberland, fell in this action, would have apparently 

*Stow. 



196 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

dissipated the expectation of a successful endeavor to regain 
power, to one less energetic than the queen. The engagement 
itself was indeed a signal warning of the disasters of future 
conflicts. It was the "first blood spilt in that fatal quarrel, 
which was not finished in less than a course of thirty years, 
which was signalized by twelve pitched battles, which opened 
a scene of extraordinary fierceness and cruelty, is computed 
to have cost the lives of eighty princes of the blood, and almost 
entirely annihilated the ancient nobility of England." 

Thwarted, however, in her military maneuvers, and for a 
time subjected again to the restriction of the Duke of York's 
authority, who resumed the protectorship on the king's re- 
lapse, Margaret, to all appearance absorbed in her devotion to 
her husband and son at Greenwich, employed her energies 
secretly, and, as it appears, with success, in promoting division 
in the council and neutralizing by every obstacle in her power 
the efficiency and fulfillment of her opponent's plans. With 
Henry, son of the late Duke of Somerset, as her newly estab- 
lished counselor, whose ardent desire to revenge his father's 
death rendered him a ready coadjutor in her resolute policy, 
it is not astounding that in the beginning of the year 1456 
we find York again removed from office, and the queen avail- 
ing herself of Henry's partial recovery to address letters, 
"under the privy seal," to York, Salisbury, and Warwick, 
requesting their immediate presence, as if on affairs of state, 
but in reality to get them into her power. The court was at 
this time in Coventry, whither Margaret had removed with 
the king, not thinking the latter safe in the capital ; but by 
good, fortune the three peers, who had already so far obeyed 
the writ of summons as to have commenced their journey, 
were warned by private emissaries of their danger, and with- 
drew with the greatest dispatch, each to his safest place of 
retreat. "The queen was extremely vexed at this disappoint- 
ment, but her comfort was that she had separated the three 
lords, and so rendered them less formidable to her." Mean- 
while the French and Scots taking advantage of the quarrel 
to invade the kingdom, she, in alarm, was this time sincere in 
her desire for . domestic amity, to secure the king's and her 
own safety, and to present unanimity of counsel in resistance 
to the common foe. 

For this purpose, and by means of ecclesiastical influence, 
a public reconciliation took place, the speciousness of which 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 197 

was betrayed by the pomp employed in its demonstration. 
There is something" almost farcical in the parade with which 
the belligerents made their triumphal entry into London ; the 
queen for once so far forced to "digest the venom of her 
spleen" as to walk hand in hand with the Duke of York, 
though the amount of real cordiality between them was speed- 
ily evinced by a trivial quarrel amongst the subordinates, 
sufficing to induce a renewal of hostilities, and to urge the 
procuring by Margaret of an order to arrest Warwick, the 
special object of her unconquerable hate. Of this, however, 
the earl again received timely warning, and escaped to his 
government of Calais, which, "as it gave him the command 
of the only regular military force maintained by England, was 
of the utmost importance in the present juncture;"* but the 
queen did not relax her efforts in raising troops ; on the con- 
trary, at the battle of Bloreheath, in the summer of 1459, 
Henry being too ill to assume the command, she, if not actually 
on the field, was sufficiently near to act as the presiding spirit 
of the fray. In fact, disaster seemed only to elicit fresh 
resources of energy and resolution ; and upon the flight of the 
royalists we find her, after her return to Coventry, rallying 
her adherents with such success as to be able, in seven months, 
again to take the field against the rebels, to whom she offered 
terms. Fortune here appears to have favored the queen's 
assumption of the entire management of the war ; and with 
the troops she had by her own perseverance collected, she 
pressed the insurgents so vigorously as to force the Duke of 
York, with his second son, Edmund, earl of Rutland, to fly 
to Ireland, whilst the eldest, the Earl of March, followed 
Warwick to Calais there to remain till the ensuing year, when 
they both returned to London, re-animated by some recent 
naval successes, and found themselves possessed of sufficient 
strength to hazard the battle of Northampton. Neither was 
Margaret less desirous for the engagement, which occurred 
July 10th, 1460; though, notwithstanding her personal pres- 
ence and direction, treachery assisted the banner of the White 
Rose, several of her most gallant adherents were slain, and 
her royal husband a second time taken prisoner, having re- 
mained with characteristic placidity in his tent. 

Immediately upon his return to London, the Duke of York, 

*Hume. 



198 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

employing the king's name, convened a parliament, at the open- 
ing of which he "sate himself down in the king's chair, under 
the cloth of state, where, after having sate a while, he told 
them a long rabble of reasons why he sate down in that place, 
that by the law it was due unto him ; and being desired to go 
visit the king, he said, God excepted, he knew no superior." 
This account seems to imply that the duke's deference to his 
sovereign, hitherto so uniformly demonstrated, was somewhat 
lessened by exasperation ; but at all events, Margaret, aware 
that she could expect but little forbearance, rather than confide 
in the magnanimity of her enemy, fled to Durham, whence, 
with only eight persons, she passed into Wales, and subse- 
quently into Scotland. Here, tidings shortly after reached 
her, Henry had formally conceded his own son's right to the 
succession of the throne in favor of the Duke of York and his 
descendants ; yet even this, the bitterest intelligence to 

-A princess, whose declining head, 



Like to a drooping lily after storms, 

Had bowed to her foes' feet, and played the slave 

To keep her husband's greatness unabated," — 

tidings full of anguish, sent by him who might at least have 
learned from her heroism to defend the claim of the hapless 
scion of royalty, now an exiled wanderer from his sire and 
heritage, in the helplessness of childhood, — failed to quench 
the fire of Margaret's indomitable spirit ; and supplying, by 
the zeal of a mother's fondness, her husband's infirmity of 
purpose, she set about the levy of new subsidies in Scotland, 
where she experienced less difficulty than might have been 
anticipated. An obstacle was attempted to her designs in the 
shape of an order from the king to join him without delay, 
but recognizing York as the originator of this maneuver, she 
obeyed the mandate by marching into England at the head of 
between eighteen and twenty thousand men. 

A surprise so sudden took the duke utterly at a disadvan- 
tage ; yet, under the impulse of an obvious necessity, he 
hastened to check her warlike majesty's advance, with about 
five thousand men, the only force available at this critical 
emergency. Upon the discovery of his inability to cope with 
his threatening foe, he retired to Sandal Castle, a fortress 
strong enough to defy siege, wherein he determined to await 
fresh succors ; but, alas ! he was doomed to experience the truth 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 199 

that the tongue is sometimes a sharper weapon than the sword, 
and that a woman's taunts pierce through armor which might 
defy the thrusts of the steel. Secure in her superior numbers, 
Margaret resolved to force her adversary from his entrench- 
ments, and, marching her troops under the castle walls, assailed 
the duke in terms of such bitter contumely, and with such 
sarcastic reflection upon his cowardice in fearing to face a 
woman, that, exasperated beyond all 'prudence, he sallied from 
the gates and soon found himself overwhelmed by the vast 
disproportion of an enemy, whose advantage was augmented 
by an ambush previously prepared by the queen. The struggle 
was neither dubious nor protracted ; in less than half an hour 
two thousand Yorkists, with their leader, lay dead on Wake- 
field Green ; and so fiercely were the passions of the combat- 
ants inflamed, that even after the engagement, when Aspill, 
the late duke's chaplain, endeavored to save the life of the 
young Earl of Rutland, his pupil, by declaring his parentage 
to Lord Clifford, that latter "stuck his dagger into the boy's 
heart, and went on his way rejoicing at the most barbarous 
and inhuman revenge that ever cruel man took." It was this 
relentless soldier, whose strong political partisanship was 
aggravated by the recollection of his father's death at St. 
Alban's, who brought the head of York to the queen placed 
on the point of a spear and crowned with a paper diadem, say- 
ing, "Madame your woe is done; here is your king's ransom." 
Margaret is said to have at first been shocked at the bloody 
sight. She averted from it her eyes, pale and trembling ; but, 
anon, at the memory of the insults and wrongs which he had 
heaped upon her and hers, how he had sought to dishonor her 
name, and to annihilate her race — she laughed loud and hysteri- 
cally, and commended the head to be placed over the gates of 
York. Salisbury was executed by the queen's command on the 
following day and his head placed beside that of the Duke of 
York, which was still surmounted by its paper crown, "in 
derision of his pretended title." This further cruelty was 
equally needless as excessive, since the unhappy earl, already 
languishing from the effects of a wound, would scarcely have 
survived to endure the threatened horrors of captivity, but 
with blind fury Margaret "disgraced her triumph, and that of 
the house of Lancaster," by such acts as these; and "spent 
her time in the execution of her prisoners, instead of improv- 
ing her victory by rapid advances toward the capital." But 



2oo THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the season of retaliation was not long procrastinated, for upon 
her army's march from the north, the queen herself command- 
ing one division, and the Earl of Pembroke, the king's half- 
brother, the other, the latter was met at Mortimer's Cross 
by the Earl of March, now become Duke of York, and the 
defeat of the royalists presented an opportunity too readily 
for the exercise of sanguinary reprisals. Margaret appears 
to have been more successful, and St. Alban's was the second 
time the scene of a fierce engagement, which terminated in 
her favor, notwithstanding that Warwick, leader of the rebels, 
had been reinforced by his friends the Londoners. 

It may be supposed that the separation of the royal pair 
since the king's capture at Northampton rendered this victory 
doubly acceptable — its result was their reunion. Warwick 
had brought the king along with him in his escape ; but of this 
the queen was not aware till his faithful attendant ran to 
Lord Clifford's quarters to announce the fact. They met in 
the tent of Clifford, with the most lively demonstrations of 
affectionate joy, and the king, at his consort's desire, conferred 
the dignity of knighthood upon "their son, Prince Edward, 
and thirty more of them who had valiantly behaved them- 
selves in the battle ;" yet could neither the dictates of her 
gentler nature nor the promises of her lord avail to induce her 
to relinquish her unfeminine resolves, and on Ash-Wednesday, 
in defiance of Henry's personal protection, the execution of 
Lord Bouville and Sir Thomas Kyriel took place, as we read, 
even before her eyes, in the presence of the youthful prince ! 
Events had by this time assumed such an aspect that it was 
clearly impossible to insure peace by the temporary success of 
either party, and hence, in the very moment of its triumph, 
Edward of York was rapidly advancing towards the royal 
army, which, to the last degree licentious and undisciplined, 
was in no condition to oppose him. Urged by these circum- 
stances, and hopeless of enlisting the Londoners in her serv- 
ice, already so offended by the insulting tone with which she 
demanded provisions for her soldiery, and at the depredations 
of her northern cavalry, as to close their gates against her, 
the queen was once more compelled reluctantly to retreat, 
leaving the field open to the victorious Edward. This trial of 
hope deferred was shortly afterwards augmented by intelli- 
gence that the latter on entering the metropolis had been 
received with acclamation by the people, who, upon Warwick's 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 201 

public demand which they would acknowledge as their king, 
Henry or young Edward? with every demonstration of uni- 
versal consent, proclaimed the representative of the house of 
York by the title of Edward the Fourth. 

The newly-made sovereign was soon called upon to maintain 
his assumed prerogative against a foe whom experience had 
i_.ready proved unlikely to relinquish her rights without a 
struggle, but who, like Antaeus, seemed to gather fresh vigor 
from each successive prostration. Scarcely had a week elapsed 
before he heard that the indefatigable queen, at the head of 
sixty thousand men, was anxiously awaiting him near the 
scene of her former success in Yorkshire ; but the White Rose 
was now the object of Fortune's fickle favors, and Nature 
herself seemed to conspire to complete the ruin of the unhappy 
Henry, by annihilating the last hope of his energetic consort. 
A storm of sleet driving full in the faces of the Lancastrians, 
decided the contest at Towton. In vain were their arrows 
spent upon the ground lately occupied by their opponents, 
who, under cover of the snow, had retreated from beyond their 
range. Incapable of further attack, by the exhaustion of their 
weapons, these last were returned upon them, and they were 
literally cut to pieces, "many being slain with their own shafts, 
picked from the field." Upon receiving the account of this 
signal defeat, Henry and Margaret, possessed now of no refuge 
in the country, of which they were become but nominally the 
sovereigns, hurried with the Duke of Exeter of Scotland, 
where they were permitted for a short time to repose, the 
English reigning monarch contenting himself with passing a 
bill of attainder upon each several member of the exiled royal 
family. This was also extended to many of the noblest of 
their adherents, and the dethroned princes had soon to expend 
bitter and unavailing regrets upon the fate of those tried 
friends in their adversity, whose devotion to the interests of 
their fallen house was terribly to be expiated on the scaffold. 

If forbearance towards her captive adversaries be a quality 
of heroism which Margaret needed, her pre-eminent magnan- 
imity in misfortune justly entitles her to the appellation of a 
great queen ; and it is difficult to express adequately our admi- 
ration of the fortitude and perseverance with which, at this 
dark period of her history, she endeavored to obtain aid from 
Scotland, with every counter-influence employed against her. 
Not only had she to buy the assistance she required by the 



202 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

cession of the town of Berwick, a measure which added im- 
mensely to her unpopularity in England, and the betrothal of 
her son to the sister of James, but to proceed alone to France, 
there to solicit further supplies of men and money from her 
first cousin Louis, who had succeeded his father, Charles the 
Seventh. It was no new trial to the forlorn queen to venture 
upon this difficult mission, unsupported but by its great pur- 
port, the restoration of her husband's rights. She had ever 
been the one to decide, and to a mind now cognizant of its own 
intrinsic power, action, ever preferable to apathy, assumed 
its fullest scope when unfettered by the opinions of others. 
But for her son she might have resigned the stake for which 
she so ardently played, and retired with contentment to the 
privacy more congenial to her mild and saintly spouse ; but 
with the powerful incentive not of Henry's right alone, but 
that of the anticipated line of his successors, indifference on 
her part would have been reprehensible, even if such a nature 
as hers could have affected it. Accompanied, therefore, by 
her son, the precious object of her fondest interest, she quitted 
at once for the Continent. 

Still in the prime of that extraordinary beauty which had 
ever rendered her remarkable, and appealing, in the eloquence 
of forsaken sorrow, to the sympathy and gallantry of her 
countrymen, Margaret, if she obtained not all she desired, 
yet received ample proof that the fascinations of her youth 
remained unimpaired by misfortune. She was in this emer- 
gency first indebted to the gratitude of a French merchant to 
whom she had rendered a service at her father's court. He 
happened to be in Scotland at this time, when, beside her other 
distresses, she was totally destitute of money, nobly not only 
supplied her with funds, but with a vessel to carry her to 
France. The Duke of Bretagne next guaranteed his aid, while 
a former friend, the gallant and romantic Pierre de Breze, 
count de Varennes, grand seneschal of Normandy, offered hir 
his fortune and sword, and raised a body of men-at-arms in 
her service. Margaret somewhat imprudently, by her too 
evident gratitude of this heroic supporter, offended other par- 
tisans, and though she succeeded with Louis so far as to 
procure a loan of money, with two thousand troops, yet it is 
quaintly observed that the monarch, in giving the command of 
them to De Breze, wished to insure the count's destruction, 
who, though preserved, certainly proved a most unfortunate 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 203 

ally- The queen's fleet sailed, and, appearing off Tinemouth, 
many of the ships were driven on shore near Bamborough 
by a storm. "The French took shelter in Holy Island, where 
they were attacked and beaten by a superior force, De Breze 
himself narrowly escaping in a fishing-boat to Berwick." 

Another but too common evil incident to the unfortunate 
occurred in the desertion of many from her standard, who 
did not resume their allegiance until some trifling successes 
had reassured them. Amongst these were Ralph Percy, 
brother of the Duke of Northumberland, together with Som- 
erset, and Exeter, who had been recently pardoned by Edward. 
But the faint hopes engendered by their return were but 
expiring throbs in the existence of a royalty from which vital- 
ity had already flown. The defeat of the Lancastrians by 
Lord Montague on Hedgley Moor was rapidly succeeded by 
the battle of Hexham, and extinguished for the present all 
prospect of retrieval. Sir Humphrey Neville, with the Lords 
Hungerford, De Roos, and the perjured Somerset, were imme- 
diately beheaded ; Percy fell in the battle, with his last breath 
rejoicing at his return to loyalty in a remarkable exclamation, 
"I have saved the bird in my bosom." Margaret, after an 
absence of five months had herself only reached England again 
as by miracle. The storm which had cast her fleet on the 
coast of Bamborough had left only herself, her son, and De 
Breze safe on the shore. They had escaped in a fishing-boat. 
The fleet and money which now were lost had been procured 
as with her life-blood. The wily French king loth to offend 
Edward the Fourth, now on the ascendant, and yet desirous 
to take advantage of Margaret's distresses, would only consent 
to advance these supplies on condition that Margaret conceded 
Calais to him. This was another of those acts which, in des- 
perate circumstances, the queen was driven to, and which were 
made by her enemies to tell so much against her with the 
people. 

After her perilous escape, Margaret concealed herself and 
her son in the forest of Hexham, where the scene of her meet- 
ing with the robber occurred, familiar to our earliest associa- 
tions; the gallant bandit, according to the historic narrative, 
attending the illustrious fugitives "willingly, and conducting 
them in safety toward the sea-shore, whence they arrived at 
Sluys, and afterwards went to Bruges, where they were re- 
cived most honorably. At Bethune a body of the Duke of 



204 THE OUEEXS OF EXGLAXD. 

Burgundy's archers met and escorted them to St. Pol ; and, 
indeed, the treatment Margaret experienced from this prince 
was so opposed to the feelings she entertained for him, that 
it is said she repented much, and thought herself unfortunate 
that she had not sooner thrown herself on his protection, 
as her affairs would probably have prospered better."* 
We may hope that similar examples of honorable commisera- 
tion alleviated in some degree the seven long years of subse- 
quent separation from her husband, which she passed while 
devoting herself to the education of her son, who now, under 
the instruction of Sir John Fortescue, was becoming an inter- 
esting and attractive youth, capable of cheering the weary 
exile, by the promise of a perpetuity of his father's virtues 
without the imbecility which obscured them. 

The hopes, however, which still slumbered in her own breast 
Margaret sedulously strengthened in her son, neither calculat- 
ing the probability of a fatal issue to herself, nor to him whom 
they were to consign to an early grave, while they accelerated 
his father's death. The year 1469 saw these two precarious 
visions assume a tangible form. Constantly informed by her 
emissaries of the state of England, where many continued their 
correspondence with the banished consort of the house of 
Lancaster, despite King Edward's efforts to secure their at- 
tachment ; it was reserved, in the strange fabric of her fate, 
for the queen's bitterest enemy now to weave the most critical 
tissue of her destiny. The Earl of Warwick, whose quarrel 
with the house of York has been variously accounted for, but 
whose anger might alone be justified by the treatment he had 
received from the king respecting Edward's marriage to Bona 
of Savoy, sister to the French queen, quitted the English court 
in disgust, and applying to Louis of France, so far gained his 
co-operation, that Margaret was, the following year, sent for 
from Angers, where she had latterly resided, and after some 
difficulty persuaded to give him a meeting. It is fruitless to 
investigate the motives of either party for the reconciliation 
itself, or for the restoration of mutual confidence. That War- 
wick should marry one daughter to the Duke of Clarence, the 
reigning king's brother, yet negotiate a union for the other 
with the heir of Lancaster, whose interests he was thus sol- 
emnly pledged to promote, appears to the last degree inex- 

*Monstrelet. 



MARGARET OF AXJOU. 205 

plicable. Doubtless consistency was not the virtue of the age ! 
Were any letters of Margaret extant, a clue might be afforded 
in this labyrinth of history ; as it is, we have only to record the 
bare facts of the meeting and the reconciliation, followed by 
Margaret's consent to Warwick for the alliance between their 
children. The fair and unfortunate Anne Neville was married 
to the Prince of Wales in August, 1470; and Warwick, upon 
the completon of the ceremony, sailed for England, there to 
enkindle again the flame of war, which had so long devastated 
her green vales. Under the joyous excitement of the earl's 
commencing success, and the prestige of its continuance af- 
forded by tidings of Henry's emancipation, the queen, with 
the young married pair, the bride's mother, the prior of St. 
John, and as large an armament as King Louis and her father 
could afford, set forth from France in the following February. 
But again was the stormy passage she encountered the sad 
presage of the fatal welcome awaiting her advent to the land 
of her adoption and misfortunes ; and hardly had she touched 
the shore when intelligence was brought of the disastrous 
action of Barnet, the deaths of Warwick and Montague, and 
the recapture of the wretched Henry. The sudden transition 
from joy to the abyss of hopelessness was too much even for 
the iron spirit which had stood unshaken, nor shown any signs 
of weakness, under trials which might have made the sternest 
natures quail ; her suffering was so intense and appalling, that 
"she fell down as if pierced by an arrow." For a space her 
energies seemed paralyzed forever, her courage vanished — 
her hopes, her fears, at an end ! There is a point at which 
anguish becomes temporarily its own remedy, and insensibility 
is the anodyne of speechless sorrow. This solace was hers ! 
It had been well for the unhappy queen if she had never 
awakened from her swoon of despair, or re-opened those eyes, 
fated so soon to rest upon a scene of woe unexampled even in 
her calamitous career. After a short sanctuary at Beaulieu, in 
Hampshire, upon the receipt of the adherence of several lords, 
she once more set forth with many misgivings for "the prince 
her son's safety," whom she vainly urged to retire to France, 
and, arriving at Bath, there assembled her friends with the 
wreck of the army of Warwick. On the 27th of April, thirteen 
days after the battle of Barnet, Edward, who had again pub- 
licly proscribed herself and her partisans, set off in pursuit 
of the queen's army, with which he came up at Tewkesbury, 



206 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Gloucester having refused to open its gates upon her ap- 
proach. Occupying a position most advantageous to her en- 
emy, inferior in strength, and subject to the treachery or 
cowardice of one of her generals ; with an army commanded 
by the prince her son, whose courage was neutralized by inex- 
perience, Margaret witnessed on this her last battlefield the 
total dispersion of her faithful but diminished adherents, and, 
together with her son, was dragged to the tent of her ungener- 
ous and exasperated foe. 

Shakespeare has vividly portrayed the harrowing circum- 
stances of this young prince's death, killed in cold blood before 
the eyes of his agonized mother, who survived to endure the 
miseries of imprisonment, after tasting, what to her spirit 
must have been worse than death, the disgrace of a public entry 
into London in the train of her conqueror, her wretchedness 
arriving at its climax in the dark and mysterious tragedy of 
her husband's murder. This murder was perpetrated the very 
night that Margaret herself was consigned to the Tower 
There for five years Henry had been imprisoned. But it was 
now necessary to the usurper that the public should be con- 
vinced that the deposed monarch no longer existed. There- 
fore, according to Leland, that night, between eleven and 
twelve o'clock, Gloucester, afterwards Richard the Third, and 
divers of his men, assassinated the helpless and meek-spirited 
king. The next day his bloody corpse was exposed to public 
view in St. Paul's. It was then conveyed silently up the 
Thames by boat to Chertsey Abbey, where it was interred. 

It was scarcely to be wondered at, that, though no longer 
formidable to the reigning family, Margaret should have been 
subjected to a rigorous confinement; but by degrees this was 
considerably relaxed and at the conclusion of the year 1475, 
the first instalment of her ransom being paid, she departed 
from her prison in Wallingford Castle, where she had been 
under the care of the Duchess of Suffolk, granddaughter of 
Chaucer, the poet, and sailed for France. It is a matter of 
question how much of credit for her delivery belongs to her 
father's affection, or to the liberality of her selfish cousin 
Louis, who has been generally supposed to have effected it. 
King Edward was at this time negotiating a marriage between 
Elizabeth of York (formerly offered to Prince Edward of 
Lancaster) and the dauphin,' when the ransom of Margaret 
was arranged. The King of Sicily entered into engagements 



MARGARET OF ANjOU. 207 

with the King of France, that the country of Provence after his 
decease should revert to the latter, and be united forever to 
the crown, in return for which she was released, and joined 
her father in the cession. Du Clos, however, affirms that "on 
the 7th of March, 1476, she renounced all her claims to the 
county, in favor of the king; this was two months before 
the treaty with King Rene was concluded," and between four 
and five months after she had quitted England. The first 
instalment was paid in November, 1475, the last in March, 
1480, the whole sum being 50,000 crowns. 

Within a mile or two of Angers, in a castle belonging to 
King Rene, were spent many of the closing years of one who, 
in the solitude of her undisturbed retreat, could indulge to 
the full the melancholy reminiscences of her eventful life, 
absorbed apparently in the past, and with affections too ex- 
hausted to allow of any interest in the future. On the death 
of her father, Margaret surrendered all the claims on Louvaine, 
Anjou, Provence, and other territories, which the death of her 
elder sister and children might give her, to Louis the Eleventh, 
for a pension of six thousand livres, which, however, was very 
badly paid. She then retired to the house of a faithful officer 
and friend of her father's, Francis Vignolles, lord of Moraens. 
In his chateau of Damprierre, near Saumur, she breathed her 
last two years afterwards. She had outlived most of the fam- 
ily of her father and his many brothers, as well as her own. 
Her terrible afflictions had so changed her whole appearance, 
that from the most beautiful woman of her time, she was 
become awful to look upon. Her eyes with constant weeping 
were sunken, dim and perpetually inflamed. The deaths of 
many noble persons of both sexes rendered the same year 
(1482) memorable; yet, though several amongst these ex- 
ceeded the period of her own existence, fifty years, it is cer- 
tain that no "storied urn or record" of her contemporaries 
comprehends an equal amount of fame or vicissitude as attach 
to her, whose resting place is distinguished by no monument 
save the venerable pile of Angers Cathedral, where she was 
entombed. 

Hume says of her that she was "an admirable princess, but 
more illustrious for her undaunted spirit in adversity than for 
her moderation in prosperity. She seems neither to have 
enjoyed the virtues nor been subject to the weaknesses of 
her sex, and was as much tainted with the ferocity as endowed 



208 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

with the courage of that barbarous age in which she lived." 
Yet, when we consider the uncertainty, which to an extent 
greater than at any other time envelopes this portion of Eng- 
lish history, how vague and contradictory, above all, how par- 
tial, are the records of the Wars of the Roses ! — an obscurity 
more remarkable in that it "falls upon us just on the eve of the 
restoration of letters, and when the art of printing was already 
known in Europe," surely we may allow admiration for some 
of the events of her life, and pity for them all, to preponderate 
over the censure which her characteristics would probably seem 
less to merit, if more accurate sources of information as to 
motives were available. 




'" — • $ueev~cfJ2&inartbIF*' 



ELIZABETH WOODVILLE, 

QUEEN OF EDWARD THE FOURTH. 

Elizabeth Woodville — whose rise from the poor and desti- 
tute widow of John Grey, son of Lord Ferrers of Groby, to 
the throne of England, excited no small degree of astonish- 
ment, and some displeasure, not only in the nation at large, 
but in certain high quarters — was born in the year 143 1, at 
Grafton Castle. 

It seemed as if love had resolved to do more than strike a 
balance in. the fortunes of the family by thus elevating Eliza- 
beth as many degrees above the station that Fate seemed 
to have assigned her, as he had caused her mother to descend 
below the high estate which her birth and her first marriage 
gave to her. A princess of the house of Luxumburgh, this 
lady became the wife of the Duke of Bedford ; and some 
time after his death, captivated the attractions of Richard 
Woodville, a squire of Henry the Fifth, and considered the 
handsomest man in England, she married him privately-, and 
was for some years his wife before the secret transpired. Not- 
withstanding this mesalliance, and her indifferent circur 
stances,* the Duchess of Bedford could not but maintain a 
certain influence in the kingdom, of which, on the deaths of 
the queens Katherine and Joanna, she became, for some period, 
the first lady. Through this influence, and the assistance of 
Cardinal Beaufort, her husband was raised to the rank of baro: 
and afterwards Earl of Rivers. 

As soon as Elizabeth, her eldest daughter, became of an age 
to fill such an appointment, she was named maid of honor to 
Margaret of Anjou, with whom her mother was in great 
favor. Here she made a conquest of the heart of Sir Hugh 
Johns, a brave but fortuneless adherent of Richard, Duke 



*Which were, at one time, particularly distressed ; as, on the dis- 
covery of her second marriage, her dower was forfeited, but on her 
petitioning parliament, subsequently restored. 

209 



210 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. ' 

of York, who, however, held his penniless follower in such 
high esteem that he particularly recommended him, by letter, 
to the fair Elizabeth, as did the Earl of Warwick ; but whether 
it was the purse or the person of the suitor that did not meet 
her approbation (and the after-career of the lady leads us to 
suspect that the state of the former was likely to have no small 
influence in her decision), the young knight received little 
favor at her hands, and was, after some deliberation, finally 
rejected. Not very long after, she accepted the proposals of 
John Grey, son and heir of the wealthy and powerful Lord 
Ferrers of Groby; thus securing- what appeared to all a most 
advantageous and desirable alliance in every point of view, 
he being highly spoken of personally, as well as for the posi- 
tion he occupied, and being a staunch adherent of the Lancas- 
trian cause, which, of course, gave her additional favor with 
her royal mistress. At this period, 1452, Elizabeth was about 
twenty-one years of age. 

The father of John Grey dying in the year 1457, he became 
Lord Ferrers ; but owing to the distracted state of the country, 
for the war of the Roses was then at its height, he was obliged 
to remain at his post as commander of the queen's cavalry, 
instead of taking his place in the House of Peers. 

Elizabeth followed her husband in one or more of. his cam- 
paigns, and is said to have acted, on a certain occasion, as a 
spy in the camp of Warwick, whither she was sent by Mar- 
garet of Anjou under pretext of requesting some personal 
favor for herself, the earl being known to entertain a consid- 
erable regard for her, notwithstanding her preference of the 
Lancastrian champion to the suitor he had so strongly urged 
her to accept. But this life of turmoil and anxiety, harassing 
and distressing as it must have been to a court-bred beauty, 
was soon to be succeeded by a far heavier state of suffering; 
for at the second battle of St. Albans her gallant husband, 
who had mainly assisted in obtaining the brilliant but fleeting 
triumph of his party, was so severely wounded that he died 
shortly afterwards, on the 28th of February, 1461, leaving 
her a desolate widow with two sons, who, out of revenge for 
the part their father had taken against the Yorkists, were 
deprived of their patrimonv of Bradgate, where they were 
born, and were living with their mother in retirement and 
poverty when Edward the Fourth ascended the throne. 

The reconciliation between the Duchess of Bedford and the 



ELIZABETH WOODVILLE. 211 

king occurred some considerable time before Edward wooed, 
or had probably ever seen her daughter ; as in the first year of 
Edward's reign he not only paid the duchess the annual 
amount of her dower, but added 100/ in advance. Still, it is 
clear that the duchess had not been able to obtain equal redress 
for the wrongs of Elizabeth, whose first interview with the 
young monarch, however, seems to have been sufficient to 
captivate a heart never able to resist the power of beauty. 
This romantic rencontre is recorded as having taken place 
under the following circumstances : 

Elizabeth learning that the king was to hunt on a certain 
day in Whittlebury Forest, close to Grafton Castle, whither 
she had retired when deprived of her sons' inheritance of 
Bradgate, she resolved to seize this occasion of pleading for 
their rights with the sovereign. Accordingly, taking her boys, 
she stationed herself at the foot of a huge tree — which is still 
standing, and bears to this day, among the people of North- 
amptonshire, the name of the queen's oak — and waited till 
the king should pass, when, throwing herself at his feet, she 
pleaded so urgently that the paternal inheritance of her chil- 
dren should be restored to them, that Edward, overcome no 
less by her beauty than by her entreaties, not only accorded 
her request, but yielded his heart a captive to the lovely 
supplicant. 

Unaccustomed to woo in vain, the monarch, whose personal 
advantages were as striking as his position was brilliant, 
deemed that he would find but little difficulty in obtaining 
the fair object of his passion on his own terms; but Elizabeth, 
whose coolness of head and heart enabled her, through the 
whole of her career, to steer clear of the dangers to which so 
many of her sex, similarly situated, would have fallen victims, 
lost no time in making the king understand that it was only 
as his wife that he might ever hope to possess her. 

This unforeseen opposition, as might be expected, still in- 
creased Edward's passion, and after a struggle of no very 
long duration, he resolved, at all hazards, to make her his on 
the only terms she would accept. Accordingly, in the year 
1464 — as Fabyan relates, though there are many conflicting- 
opinions as to the date of the event — the marriage was secretly 
performed at the town of Grafton, after which the king went 
to spend several days at Grafton Castle, as if on a friendly 
visit to Lord Rivers, the father of Elizabeth. 



212 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

This union could not, however, be very long kept secret; 
and among the many malcontents made by the discovery of it, 
none exhibited such bitter displeasure as the Duchess of York, 
mother to Edward, who having assumed all the state of a 
queen previous to the ruin and death of her husband,. now saw 
herself compelled ■ to yield precedence to the daughter of a 
lowly squire. This lady, daughter of Neville, earl of West- 
morland, and granddaughter, by her mother, of John of Gaunt, 
was equally remarkable for her beauty and unconquerable 
pride. Furious, therefore, at what she conceived to be a deg- 
radation alike to her son and herself, she left no art untried to 
induce him not to acknowledge Elizabeth as his queen ; but all 
her efforts were in vain. Edward, over whose mind the sober 
judgment and cool discrimination of his wife had obtained as 
firm an ascendancy as her beauty had over his heart, was not 
to be turned aside from his purpose by. the arguments of his 
mother; and on the 29th September, 1464, at the palace of 
Reading, Elizabeth Woodville was declared by Edward to be 
his wife, after which she was publicly acknowledged as queen 
at the abbey church of that town, and there received the 
homage and congratulations of the assembled nobles. 

This event was followed by a series of the most brilliant 
fetes and tournaments, in which the gallant and gifted An- 
thony Woodville, second brother to the queen, acted a most 
conspicuous part. Indeed, Elizabeth took care that none of 
her own family should remain in the background, and she 
lost no time in marrying all her brothers and sisters to the 
greatest and wealthiest matches in the kingdom — a proceed- 
ing which excited much displeasure among the ancient nobility 
of the realm. 

In order to make his marriage appear less unequal, Edward 
was most anxious to prove his wife's descent from the house 
of Luxemburgh ; a connection which her mother's union with 
Woodville had 'induced the princes of that line to bury in 
oblivion, if not absolutely to disavow. To effect this purpose, 
therefore, he sent an embassy to the Comte de Charolois to 
use his influence to prevail upon. some of Elizabeth's kindred to 
attend her coronation, and acknowledge their relationship with 
her. As the squire's daughter was swallowed up in the Queen 
of England, no objection was made to the fulfillment of this 
request ; a favorable answer was immediately returned to the 
king's application, and the Comte Jacques de St. Pol, great 



ELIZABETH WOODYILLE. 213 

uncle to the queen, attended by a band of a hundred knights, 
with their retainers, arrived in England a few days previous to 
the coronation. 

Elizabeth was crowned at Westminster in the month of 
May, 1465, with all possible magnificence; and the efforts made 
on this occasion by herself and her royal spouse to conciliate 
the good- will of their subjects, by Various acts of favor and 
condescension, won them over to a certain degree to look 
with more satisfaction on a match that had previously excited 
no small portion of displeasure and discontent ; and when, in 
the- following year, a princess was born, their policy in choos- 
ing the child's grandmother, the Duchess of York, for one of 
the sponsors, succeeded in soothing her violent disapprobation 
of her son's choice. But one implacable enemy was made 
whom no attempts at conciliation could win — the Earl of War- 
wick ; and though at this precise period his animosity was not 
yet developed, as is shown by the fact of his standing godfather 
to this princess, it was at no distant time fully called forth by 
various circumstances, — among others, that of the queen art- 
fully succeeding in marrying the heiress of the Duke of Exe- 
ter to her eldest son by her first husband, when Warwick had 
set his heart on securing her for his nephew, George Neville. 

It has been stated also,, by some historians, that Edward had 
ventured to offer an insult to the daughter of Warwick — the 
very person whom the ambitious earl had from her childhood 
hoped to see his bride, until the accession of Elizabeth Wood- 
ville to that dignity dealt the deathblow to these aspirations. 

And now a storm, which had long been gathering and gain- 
ing force, began to burst forth. Robin of Redesdale, reported 
to have been a noble outlawed for his exertions in behalf of 
the house of Lancaster, with a large body of insurgents, fought 
and conquered the royal troops at Edgecote, in Yorkshire ; and 
finding Lord Rivers, against whom the people entertained a 
furious indignation in consequence of his having, in his capac- 
ity of Lord Treasurer, tampered with the coin, they dragged 
him and his son John from their place of concealment in the 
forest of Deane, and led them, in the names of Warwick and 
the Duke of Clarence, to Northampton, where they beheaded 
them without even the form of a trial (1469). F^ut even this 
was not sufficient to satisfy their thirst for vengeance on the 
queen's family; for an accusation of witchcraft was brought 



2i 4 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

against her mother, who with some difficulty escaped the 
fearful doom intended for her. 

No sooner did the intelligence of these outrages reach the 
ears of Edward than he resolved to set off in person to quell 
the insurgents and restore order ; but on his reaching the north 
he was seized by his powerful and implacable enemy, War- 
wick, and confined in Warwick Castle, where he was induced 
to enter into negotiations with the earl for the marriage of 
his infant daughter with George Neville. From this place he 
was conveyed, strictly guarded, to the seat of the Archbishop 
of York, brother to Warwick, and, after a short stay, succeeded 
in escaping to Windsor, whence he went at once to London 
to rejoin the queen, who had remained there, surrounded by 
faithful and devoted subjects, as all the inhabitants of the 
metropolis had continued to be. 

And now the tide of fortune turned for a while ; Warwick 
and Clarence in alarm fled to France, but Anthony Woodville, 
who commanded the royal fleet, succeeded in taking possession 
of all their ships, with the exception of that which contained 
them and their families. 

Edward now proceeded to give battle to the rebels, but 
soon discovered that little confidence was to be placed in his 
own troops, for on Warwick returning to England they offered 
to surrender the king to him. Edward, however, obtaining 
secret intelligence of their intended treachery, fled in the 
night-time, and, attended by a few faithful adherents, embarked 
at Lynn, in Norfolk. 

At this period, Elizabeth, who had been lodged by Edward 
in the Tower for security, taking alarm at the increasing 
dangers which surrounded her, abandoned her intention of 
weathering the storm there, and, accompanied by her mother, 
her three daughters, and her devoted attendant, Lady Scrope, 
she fled to the Sanctuary at Westminster, a gloomy and dismal 
abode, without one of the comforts which her situation, for 
she was again about to become a mother, rendered doubly 
necessary. Such was the condition to which the unfortunate 
queen and her party were reduced, that, had not a butcher 
charitably supplied them with meat, they must have been 
starved into .surrendering themselves to their enemies. 

And here in this wretched spot did the heir to England's 
throne come into the world, on the ist of November, 1470, and 
but for the chance assistance of a midwife, who, happily, was 



ELIZABETH WOODVILLE. 215 

in the Sanctuary at the time, the unfortunate Elizabeth and 
her infant son would have been utterly destitute of proper at- 
tendance in this hour of pain and peril. Soon after his birth 
the little prince was baptized, with the utmost privacy and 
simplicity, at Westminster Abbey ; the Abbot of Westminster, 
the Duchess of Bedford, and Lady Scrope standing sponsors. 
He was named Edward, after his father. 

From this period until the month of April following, the 
queen remained shut up in the Sanctuary, when the king, who 
had landed in England in March, and had, almost unopposed, 
made his way to the capital, which instantly surrendered to 
him, came to release her from her long and painful imprison- 
ment, for such in fact it was. Great was his joy once more to 
behold her, and to greet his first-born son ; and nobly did 
he reward the few friends who had faithfully assisted her dur- 
ing the dark and disastrous times she had gone through. 

From the Sanctuary, Edward carried his wife and children 
to Baynard Castle, a place of enormous strength, where she 
remained until the fortunes of the house of York were assured 
by the battle of Barnet, and the deaths of Warwick and Mon- 
tague ; but all danger for her was not yet over ; for being 
lodged in the Tower, previous to the battle of Tewkesbury, 
it was, during the king's absence threatened by Falconbridge ; 
but Anthony Woodville repelled the impending danger. 

The sun of fortune smiled once more on the house of York. 
The royal pair, long separated by misfortune and hardship, 
now resolved to enjoy the pleasures of peace and prosperity ; 
and feasts, banquets, and amusements of all kinds took the 
place of mourning, alarm, and distress. Edward, who was not 
in general wanting in gratitude to those who had aided him in 
misfortune, rewarded those who had been kind to his queen 
while in the Sanctuary, and also invited to his court Louis of 
Bruges, governor of Holland, who had received him most 
kindly the previous year; and this guest the king treated with 
the most princely hospitality, and created Earl of Winchester. 

In the year 1477, the queen's second son, Richard, Duke of 
York, then five years old, was married to Anne Mowbray, 
heiress of the Duke of Norfolk, a child barely three; but 
neither youth nor age were considered any obstacles by Eliza- 
beth where wealth and ambition were concerned, as was 
evinced in the marriages she made for some of her brothers 
and sisters in the beginning of her reign. 



216 . THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

About this period, the Duke of Clarence, to whom Edward 
had certainly behaved with extreme magnanimity, after his 
ungrateful and rebellious conduct to himself, and violent ani- 
mosity to his beloved Elizabeth, began again to show symp- 
toms of discontent and disaffection, and soon proceeded so far 
as to make an accusation of sorcery against the queen. This 
was the second charge of a similar nature that had .been got 
up, in order to shake her hold on the heart of her husband, and 
ruin her in the eyes of the people. It was a charge grounded 
on the absurd vanity of her mother's family, the Princess of 
Luxemburg, having their descent from the "Fair Melusina," 
a water-nymph, well known in the popular literature of Ger- 
many. Clarence had already too deeply injured her to be for- 
given ; and when at last, forgetting prudence, gratitude, and 
decency, he one day rushed from the council-chamber, and 
with the most violent expressions abused both his brother and 
the queen, it is little to be wondered at that Elizabeth, when 
informed of the circumstance, should fan the flame already 
excited in Edward's heart against the weak and wicked Clar- 
ence. Accordingly, without delay the duke was arrested, tried, 
and condemned to death ; but while the king hesitated before 
putting the sentence into execution, he was confined in the 
Tower, where, with what intention it is difficult to decide, a 
butt of malmsey, his favorite beverage, was introduced. 

After the death of his wife, Isabel, Warwick's elder daugh- 
ter, to whom he was warmly attached, Clarence had taken to a 
constant habit of intemperance, to cause forgetfulness of the 
grief he had not sufficient manliness to bear with fortitude ; and 
it is probable that he fell a victim to this degrading vice ; for 
shortly after his imprisonment he was found dead, with his 
head hanging over into the butt, as he had doubtless fallen 
when overcome by intoxication, the fumes of the wine and the 
unnatural position completing the catastrophe which the inor- 
dinate drinking had already begun. 

But little interest is recorded relating to the queen from 
this period until the fatal event that left her a second time a 
widow, exposed to the malignity of her numerous enemies. 
Edward, who in his prosperity had abandoned himself to a 
life of pleasure and excess, and though still considerably under 
Elizabeth's influence, had for the time devoted himself to the 
beautiful and ill-fated Jane Shore, began to suffer from the 
baneful effects of a course of dissipation and indulgence ; and 



ELIZABETH WOODVILLE. 21; 

an intermittent fever, which baffled the skill of all the physi- 
cians called in to attend the monarch, put a period to his exist- 
ence in the month of April, 1483. His body lies interred in 
St. George's Chapel at Windsor. 

And now began for the unfortunate Elizabeth a series of 
misfortunes such as might well excite the commiseration of evei 
those whom her ambition and want of heart had turned against 
her. 

The first terrible blow that struck her was doubly agonizing, 
from being aimed at the most vulnerable point, her material 
affection ; for Elizabeth, though cold as a friend and as a wife, 
which is evidenced by the philosophical composure with which 
she endured her husband's constant infidelities, was certainly 
fondly devoted to her children and her family. This cruel 
stroke was the arrest of her son, the young king, on his way 
from Ludlow Castle to London, by his uncle, the Duke of 
Gloucester. The queen's maternal instinct, vaguely forebod- 
ing some danger for her son, though certainly not from Such 
a quarter, as the wily Gloucester had, on his brother's death, 
written to her in the kindest and most sympathizing tone, had 
induced her strongly to urge the propriety of having him es- 
corted on his journey by a powerful armed force; but this 
desire was insolently overruled by Hastings, who saw in the 
plan only a wish of further advancing and securing the influ- 
ence of the Woodvilles ; and the queen, with tears and gloomy 
predictions, gave up the point. Bitter as was the agony she 
experienced at learning the fatal confirmation of her forebod- 
ings, she yet had the presence of mind to recollect that so long 
as she could retain in her custody her younger son, the Duke 
of York, the life of Edward was safe, and, without losing a 
moment, she once more fled for refuge to the Sanctuary, and 
took up her abode at the abbot's palace with the boy and his 
sisters. 

There she was immediately visited by Archbishop Rother- 
ham, lord chancellor, who delivered to her the great seal, 
declaring that if any other than her elder son were named 
king, they, Hastings, himself, and the rest of the loyal party, 
would, on the morrow, crown the young Duke of York. ' It is 
said that he afterwards took alarm at what he had done, and, 
fearing the increasing power of Gloucester, induced the queen 
to restore the great seal. 

On the 4th of May, the young king was brought to London 



218 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

by his uncle, who treated, him with every mark of homage and 
respect before the people, and lodged with the Bishop of Ely, 
whence, in order to have him more completely in his own 
keeping, the crafty Richard had him removed to the Tower. 
He then resolved to leave no effort untried to obtain possession 
of the person of the Duke of York, and even contemplated 
taking him by force from the Sanctuary, if his mother refused 
to deliver him up ; but the Archbishop of York undertook to 
induce her to resign her son, by the most solemn promises that 
the child should be in as safe keeping as her own. 

At last, after long hesitation and with great misgivings, the 
unfortunate queen was prevailed upon to yield up to them 
her remaining son, and, weeping bitterly, with kisses and bless- 
ings, they parted, to meet no more on earth. The little duke 
was taken at once to the Star Chamber, where the monster 
Richard hailed him with all appearance of affection and respect ; 
and he was then sent to rejoin the young king at the Tower. 

The next affliction that visited the wretched Elizabeth were 
the murders — for they can be called by no other name— °oi her 
brother, Anthony Woodville and her son, Richard Gray, who* 
were executed at Pontefract. She was then, at the council- 
table, accused by Gloucester of sorcery, and of having, in league 
with Jane Shore, withered his arm, which he showed to the 
persons present, all of whom were aware that it had, from his 
birth, been in that condition. Hastings, he declared, was the 
aider and abettor of these "witches ;" and, on his attempting to 
deny the charge, he had him dragged forth into the yard of 
the Tower, and beheaded on the spot. Notwithstanding these 
violent measures Gloucester did not yet venture to throw off 
the mask ; for, even while gradually removing the persons who 
like Hastings, were sincerely devoted to the rightful heirs of 
the throne, he continued to make pretended preparations for 
the coronation of Edward the Fifth ; but shortly after the mur- 
der of Hastings, a petition, got up by Richard's party, was pre- 
sented in parliament to exclude the sons of Edward the Fourtl 
from the succession, declaring that the marriage between him 
and Elizabeth was illegal, and the children consequently illegiti- 
mate ; and no sooner was this petition presented than Richard 
caused himself to be proclaimed king, which was done in June, 

1483- 

The murders of the young princes, the details of which are 
too circumstantial, and the corroborative evidence, since pro- 



ELIZABETH WOODVILLE. 219 

duced by the discovery of the bodies in the Record Office, 
which was formerly the Tower Chapel, too strong to leave a 
reasonable doubt as to their authenticity, and Richard began 
to breathe more freely. 

It is little to the credit of the queen and of her daughter 
Elizabeth, that after the usurpation of Richard, and his murder 
of the two sons of the queen — the two brothers of the princess, 
these ladies were anxious to ally themselves to the tyrant and 
murderer by marriage. Elizabeth was extremely and even re- 
voltingly anxious for the death of Anne, Richard's queen. In 
a letter to Howard, Duke of Norfolk, she called Richard "her 
joy and maker in this world — the master of her heart and 
thoughts." She expressed her surprise that the queen was so 
long in dying, adding, "Would she never die?" 

These are melancholy exhibitions of human nature. The 
Queen, Anne of Warkick, died ; but Richard, deterred by pow- 
erful political motives, declined marrying Elizabeth. 

The queen, whose maternal anguish, or, perhaps, rather am- 
bition threatened to destroy her, was constantly visited in the 
Sanctuary by a physician, who, being also a priest, found fre- 
quent opportunities of conferring with her in secret ; and, 
through him, negotiations were commenced between her and 
Margaret Beaufort, which terminated in Elizabeth's consent- 
ing to recognize Margaret's son, Henry, Earl of Richmond, 
the last of the Lancastrian line, as king of England, on his mar- 
rying her daughter Elizabeth, and finding means to dispossess 
Richard of the throne. 

The failure of the insurrection of Buckingham, who, dis- 
gusted with some act of the usurper, had taken up arms against 
him, and was joined by Dorset, the queen's eldest son, and her 
brother, Sir Edward Woodville, threw her once more into utter 
despair, and in 1484 she was compelled, partly through fear 
of starvation, to surrender herself and her daughters into 'the 
hands of Richard, under a solemn oath, taken in presence of 
the council and the city authorities, that their persons should 
be secure. 

She was then placed under the actual custody of Nesfield, a 
squire of the body to Richard, to whom an annual sum was al- 
lotted for her maintenance as a private gentlewoman. There 
she remained until the successful revolution that placed Henry 
Tudor, Earl of Richmond, on the throne, with her daughter 
Elizabeth as his partner of it. 



220 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Notwithstanding what has been said of Henry VII. 's harsh 
and unfeeling conduct to his mother-in-law, no proof of this 
exists ; while, on the contrary, it is recorded, on the best evi- 
dence, that a month after the marriage of her daughter to 
Henry VII. she was put into possession of the dower palaces 
of Waltham, Farnham, Maplebury, and Baddow, besides a 
pension of two hundred pounds per annum; to which was 
added, in 1490, an annuity of four hundred pounds. The as- 
sertion that she fell into disgrace with the king for abetting 
the schemes of the Earl of Lincoln and Lambert Simnel — 
the one appointed by Richard the Third to usurp the place of 
her own children on the English throne, the other the sup- 
posed son and grandson of her bitterest enemies, Clarence 
and Warwick — seems really too absurd to be credited, and is 
indeed disproved by the fact that she appeared at court on sev- 
eral occasions afterwards, and was chosen by Henry as god- 
mother to his first-born son. 

It appears that the king, wishing to establish a firmer league 
with Scotland, conceived the singular plan of making up a 
marriage between the queen dowager and James the Third ; 
but the death of the young monarch, who was many years 
the junior of his proposed wife, put an end to the scheme. 

About the year 1490, Elizabeth retired into the convent of 
Bermondsey, where, being seized with a fatal illness, she made 
a will. In this will, dated April 10, 1492, a copy of which is 
given in Sir Harris Nicolas's "Memoir of Lady Jane Grey," 
the great-great-granddaughter of this queen, she earnestly re- 
quested that she might be buried, as simply and unostenta- 
tiously as possible, beside her husband at Windsor; and she 
shortly after expired, surrounded by her daughters. Thus 
ended the eventful and melancholy career of Elizabeth Wood- 
ville, who, whatever may have been the defects of her charac- 
ter, certainly, by her cruel misfortunes, commands more the 
pity than the censure of posterity. 



ANNE OF WARWICK, 

WIFE OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 

Anne of Warwick, the subject of this memoir, was de- 
scended from some of the most wealthy and powerful of the 
English nobility. 

Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury, her grandfather, was 
of that numerous and extraordinary family of the great Earl 
of Westmoreland, each of whom took a prominent part in the 
annals of the country during that eventful period, the fifteenth 
century. The father of Anne Neville was the far-famed Rich- 
ard Neville, Earl of Warwick, the son of the Earl of Salis- 
bury, whom the chroniclers of that day distinguish as the 
"king-maker," and "the most potent earl that England ever 
saw." He became Earl of Warwick, and took the name of 
Beauchamp in right of his wife. 

On the maternal side the ancestors of Anne Neville (for that 
was her family name) were not less illustrious. Her mother, 
Anne, was daughter to the great Earl of Warwick, so re- 
nowned in the wars of France in the reign of Henry the Sixth. 
This earl had but one son and one daughter, both of whom he 
allied to the house of Salisbury in marriage. His son was 
Henry Beauchamp, the chief favorite of the Lancastrian king, 
who conferred upon him every possible dignity, making him 
Premier of England, Duke of Warwick, and King of the Isle 
of Wight. But this accomplished nobleman died at an early 
age, and his infant daughter did not long survive him, and 
r.fter her death, Anne, the sister of Duke Henry, came into 
possession of the family estates, and her husband, the son of 
the Earl of Salisbury, assumed, in her right, the title of Earl 
of Warwick. 

The Countess of Warwick had but two daughters, named 
Isabella and Anne, and both of them were, like herself, des- 
tined to experience many vicissitudes and misfortunes in those 



222 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

rebellious times. But more peculiarly was it the fate of the 
younger of these, Anne of Warwick, to be a child of sorrow. 
This lady was the first who bore the title of. Princess of Wales, 
and she was the last queen of the race of Plantagenet. Yet 
we find some difficulty in tracing her eventful history, in its 
extremes of prosperity and adversity, and blended as it is with 
the annals of party strife. 

Anne Neville was born in the castle of Warwick in the year 
1454, just at the commencement of the civil war between the 
Yorkists and Lancastrians, in which her father took so promi- 
nent a part. At first the Earl of Warwick was the chief sup- 
porter of the Duke of York and his party, and it was mainly 
through his influence that Edward, Earl of March, the son 
of the duke, became King of England. Owing to these cir- 
cumstances, Anne of Warwick, as tradition tells us, became 
in her youth much associated with her cousins of the hotfse 
of York, the youngest of whom, Richard, entertained for 
her a strong and ardent affection. But he was not the ob- 
ject of the early choice of this princess. Nor was this very 
surprising; for this duke, who, upon his brother's accession, 
obtained the title of the Duke of Gloucester, was deformed 
in person. "At his nativity," says Rous, a contemporary, "the 
scorpion was in the ascendant. He came into the world with 
teeth, and with a head of hair reaching to his shoulders. He 
was small of stature, with a short face and unequal shoulders, 
the right being higher than the left." The hateful qualities of 
his mind were even less likely to win upon the regard of the 
gentle Anne, who from the first seems to have looked upon 
him with feelings of aversion and dread. 

Warwick had united his eldest daughter, Isabella, to George, 
Duke of Clarence, the brother of Richard, for the purpose 
of attaching him to his interests, at the time when, withdraw- 
ing in disgust from the court of King Edward, where he felt 
he had been treated with undeserved neglect and indifference, 
he had resolved to revenge himself. 

The deep-seated resentment of the earl did not immediately 
manifest itself; but its aim was sure, and every step he took 
was certain in its progress and effect against the Yorkist king, 
as it had been previously in his favor; and yet the king him- 
self did not suspect the evil which was working against him, 
but even employed the earl and his son-in-law to levy troops 
in his support. These were to have been employed against 



ANNE OF WARWICK. 22$ 

some insurgents in Lincolnshire, where a rebellion had broken 
out; but the discontented lords used the troops which they 
assembled in their own interests. The star of Edward was, 
however, destined to be in the ascendant, and the lords War- 
wick and Clarence were compelled to abandon the kingdom. 
In their flight they carried with them both the daughters of 
the Earl of Warwick. 

The town of Calais had ever been -favorable to the Earl of 
Warwick, who had placed over it, as deputy-lieutenant in his 
absence, a Gascon named Vauclere, in whom he had great 
confidence. To Calais, therefore, the fugitives bent their 
course ; but great was their surprise, upon their approach, to 
be saluted by a cannon ball, and to meet with an obstinate re- 
sistance. All they could procure was a little wine for the relief 
of the duchess, who, on board the ship, had just given birth 
to a son, destined from his first entrance into the world to 
inherit the misfortunes of his parents. The messenger of 
Vauclere, however, informed the Earl of Warwick that he 
was still devoted to his service, but that he had acted in this 
manner to prevent the earl entering the town, which would 
have been attended with great danger. He assured him, how- 
ever, that he might still rely upon his fidelity ; on which the 
earl steered to Dieppe, where the two ladies were safely landed, 
and they afterwards proceeded to Amboise to meet the King 
of France, who gave them a favorable reception. 

This monarch during their stay sent for the unfortunate 
Queen Margaret of Anjou, who had at this time been residing 
at the court of her father, King Rene, at Angers. The Lan- 
castrian queen was the mortal enemy of the Earl of Warwick, 
not only on account of the favor he had shown to the party 
of the Yorkists, but also for the personal indignities he had 
cast upon herself and her husband, the meek monarch Henry 
the Sixth. The Earl of Warwick no less hated Queen Mar- 
garet ; but at this time a stronger passion prevailed, one that 
overruled every other — it was revenge against King Edward ; 
and to gratify this he was willing to forget every other en- 
mity. 

By advice of the French king, both parties agreed to forget 
their former animosities, and by uniting their interests, and 
making one common cause, to raise again the standard of 
King Henry, and effect the downfall of Edward the Fourth, 
an object which both earnestly desired, but which neither could 



224 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

effect without the other. The King of France, too, had his 
share in this matter ; for he sought, by the revival of the wars 
in England, to prevent King Edward from interfering with 
foreign affairs. 

The terms of the agreement were that the Duke of Clarence 
and the Earl of Warwick should endeavor to restore Henry 
the Sixth to the throne ; that they should afterwards be allowed 
to rule the kingdom during the king's life and his son's mi- 
nority; and that, to confirm this unlooked-for agreement, the 
Prince of Wales should marry the youngest daughter of the 
Earl of Warwick. The young Edward was accordingly united 
to Anne of Warwick, and thus by the marriage of his two 
daughters, the earl became equally allied to the two rival houses 
of York and Lancaster. 

There were many severe struggles in the breast of the un- 
fortunate Queen Margaret before she could consent to the 
marriage of her beloved son with the daughter of her greatest 
enemy, and during twelve days she obstinately persisted in 
maintaining her refusal. But her scruples were at length over- 
come by persuasions on all sides, and moreover, it is probable, 
that when the earl for political reasons offered the hand of his 
daughter to the heir of Lancaster, it was willingly accepted 
by him ; and this union, which was based on mutual affection, 
was not less agreeable to the Princess Anne, who has been de- 
scribed as superior to her sister, the Duchess of Clarence, but 
whether in the accomplishments of the mind, or in the nobler 
qualities of the heart is left to conjecture. 

Prince Edward was at this time only in the nineteenth year 
of his age ; he was both handsome and accomplished, and had 
been well instructed under that learned preceptor, Fortescue, 
who was at one time Chancellor of England. No wonder, 
therefore, that the Lady Anne, now in her seventeenth year, 
should show a marked preference for the Lancastrian prince, 
in whom she must have perceived a lively contrast to her for- 
mer lover, the Duke of Gloucester. This unexpected marriage 
was celebrated immediately in the presence of Queen Mar- 
garet, the Earl of Warwick, the Duke and Duchess of Clar- 
ence, and the King of France and his court. It took place 
at Angers, in August, 1470. 

There are some writers, however, who affirm that only the 
contract for this union was signed, and that it was never the 
intention of Oueen Margaret that it should take place. Certain 




/ /;,/'>/(/■£,■/, 



ANNE OF WARWICK. 225 

it is, that the disastrous events which succeeded must have 
rendered the solemnization of this marriage impossible at a 
subsequent period, and very brief, indeed, must have been 
the happiness of the Lady Anne, who passed only a few months 
with the young prince, the object of her choice. It was but 
that short period intervening between the day of their mar- 
riage and the battle of Tewksbury, which took place on the 
4th of May in the following year. 

Anne of Warwick, in the picture before us, appears as in 
her happiest hours, when the bride of the young Prince Edward, 
the heir of the English throne.' In that fair and intelligent 
countenance, hope and joy are blended, with a sweet and calm 
content, exhibiting that sunshine of the heart, which fate de- 
nied to her in the latter period of her life, when she shared 
the regal honors of the blood-stained Richard of Gloucester, 
her present husband's murderer. Her expression is that of 
innocence and peace, forming a contrast with the tumultuous 
and perilous scenes she was destined to pass through ; and it 
grieves the heart to reflect that a cloud must pass over that 
joyous countenance, and convert its sunshine into the dark- 
ness of despair ; but extremes of prosperity and adversity were 
the lot of all who lived during this period of civil strife. The 
young Princess of Wales appears in her royal costume, bearing 
in her right hand the Order of the Garter. 

Prince Edward and his consort passed together into Eng- 
land with Queen Margaret, and after landing at Weymouth, 
learned the dire intelligence of the fatal issue of the battle of 
Barnet; of the desertion of Clarence, who had been previously 
gained over by King Edward, and of the apparent failure of 
all their hopes. 

It would be vain to attempt to depict the despair of the 
hapless queen, who had been detained by adverse winds from 
reaching England in time to unite her forces with those of 
Warwick. She took refuge with her son, the Princess Anne, 
and their small circle of adherents, first, in the Abbey of Cearn, 
and then in the Sanctuary of Beaulieu, where they were joined 
by the Duke of Somerset and many of their Lancastrian friends, 
who attempted to console the queen and revive her hopes. 
Although they succeeded in awakening her ardor for the last 
fatal struggle in the cause of the Red Rose, they found it much 
more difficult to prevail upon her to allow her son to join in 
this fearful contest. With the tender feelings of an affectionate 



226 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

mother she pleaded that he might be sent back to France, there 
to await in safety the result of this party struggle. She urged 
his tender years, and inability to render them any service in 
the coming fight on account of his inexperience. But all her 
arguments were ineffectual ; they were overruled by the zeal 
and earnest representations of their friends, who desired that 
the prince should lead on their forces. 

It is perhaps needless to allude to the fatal termination of 
the ever memorable contest between the houses of York and 
Lancaster. 

The English reader is well acquainted with the defeat of 
the Lancastrians at Tewkesbury in 1471 ; with the death of 
Somerset, Wenlock, and other chiefs, the cruel murder of 
Prince Edward and the capture of the unhappy Margaret of 
Anjou. It is only necessary here to detail, as far as we are 
able, the fate of the hapless Anne of Warwick, who, by the 
event of the battle which secured the throne to King Edward, 
became a friendless and deserted widow. 

One writer says the Prince of Wales was with his consort 
after the battle, when he was discovered, and that both were 
hurried into the presence of the conqueror, who gave the com- 
mand for the prince's execution. It is more probable, how- 
ever, as other chroniclers assert, that Anne was at this moment 
with her mother-in-law, Queen Margaret, and was with her 
conveyed to the Tower, whence Richard drew her in order to 
marry her. 

The triumphant King Edward led his captives to London. 
Amidst the cruelty which this monarch exercised after the 
battle, and all the details of the trials, executions and other 
matters, the historian has forgotten to narrate the fate of the 
Lady Anne of Warwick. Yet must the field of Tewkesbury 
have been a heart-rending scene to this young princess, who, 
of gentle birth, as well as gentle spirit, had there to endure the 
murder of her beloved husband, the distraction of his fond 
mother, the misery of the defeated party of King Henry the 
Sixth, to which she was attached ; and lastly — and, perhaps, 
not the least to be feared — the recognition, in the person of 
one of the victors, of her once hated lover, the Duke of Glouces- 
ter. Possibly this last emotion might have, at this time, su- 
perseded every other feeling. 

The death of the Earl of Warwick left his immense wealth 
at the disposal of the victors. Clarence claimed it wholly in 



ANNE OF WARWICK. 227 

right of his wife, Isabella, the earl's eldest daughter, and he 
was resolved to remove the Princess Anne from his brother's 
knowledge, for he had declared his intention of marrying her, 
and of dividing the earl's inheritance with the Duke of Clar- 
ence. While the latter prince, in order to promote his own 
selfish ends, did all he could to prevent this union, the Princess 
Anne seconded his plans from her aversion to Gloucester, for 
whom she still felt the utmost abhorrence. 

She even submitted to hold the place of a menial in a family 
in London; some assert it was that of a cookmaid, in which 
office she hoped to elude the search of her detested cousin. 
But in this project she failed; and the Duke of Gloucester 
discovered her, even in her disguise, and at once conveyed her 
to the sanctuary of St. Martin's-le-Grand ; nor did he desist 
from his purpose until he compelled her to bestow upon him 
her hand. 

Some irregularities existed in regard to the forms of this 
marriage, probably occasioned by the reluctant assent extorted 
from Anne, who, it was expected, would sue for a divorce; 
and it was enacted by parliament that, in case the Duchess 
should obtain a divorce, the Duke should still keep possession 
of her property. Thus the vast possessions of the family of 
Warwick were divided between the two daughters of the wid- 
owed countess, who was left so destitute as to be compelled 
to seek an asylum in a convent; and the once rich heiress of 
the noble house of De Spencer and of Warwick, by whose 
title the great earl, her husband, received his vast estates, was 
obliged to procure relief in her necessities by the use of her 
needle. 

The marriage of the Princess Anne to Richard, Duke of 
Gloucester, took place at Westminster in the year 1473. Soon 
after the celebration of these nuptials, the duke carried his 
bride into Yorkshire, and fixed their abode at Middleham 
Castle. Here they both continued to reside during the life- 
time of King Edward the Fourth ; and when we consider the 
political situation of Richard, as the governor of the northern 
counties, and his frequent contests with the Scotch, which 
often compelled him to take the field, we are not, perhaps, 
wrong in supposing that he was not very often an inmate of 
his own halls; and little doubt can be entertained that the less 
he visited them the more cheerful and less unhappy was his 
disconsolate wife, 



228 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

During her stay at Middleham the birth of her son in 1474 
had, however, opened a new source of interest in the breast 
of this lady, who bestowed upon her boy all that love and ten- ' 
derness which had before been confined to her own heart. Yet 
she was not long permitted this solace to her grief. While still 
living at Middleham Castle, in 1476, she lost her sister, the 
Duchess of Clarence ; soon after which, as Duchess of Glouces- 
ter, she was called upon to take a part in public acts, which 
were far from being either justifiable or excusable; but we 
have reason to believe, from the few notices that have come 
down to us, that the actions, no less than the person of the 
infamous Richard, were her supreme abhorrence. 

King Edward was no more, and his immediate successor to 
the throne was only a child. Richard had resolved to place 
upon his own brow the regal diadem, and the remonstrances 
of Anne, had she even dared to utter them, would have been 
in vain, if not dangerous to herself. Richard was, as a friend, 
not easily led by any one, and still less likely to be turned from 
his guilty career by the tears and entreaties of a woman. 

By a series of crimes, of which history has preserved the 
record and which have made Richard the Third a by-word of 
reproach in the mouth of posterity, he at length mounted his 
blood-stained throne, and required his queen to share with him 
his usurped and guilty honors. We have no reason for suppos- 
ing that any of the crimes of her husband ever had the sanc- 
tion or approbation of Anne, and contemporary historians 
have declared that she did not participate in the plunder of 
those who dared to oppose the treacherous designs of the ty- 
rant. Yet when we consider the character of Richard, it will 
be evident that any wish expressed by him would be received 
as a command by the meek and powerless Anne. 

In obedience to the orders of the tyrant Richard, Anne pro- 
ceeded to London preparatory to her coronation. On the 4th 
of July, 1483, Richard, who had already been proclaimed king, 
conducted his wife and her little son Edward with regal mag- 
nificence from Westminster to the Tower, and their child was 
on the same day created Prince of Wales. On the morrow the 
king and queen and the infant prince went in procession 
through the city, attended by the four thousand partisans of 
Richard, whom he had brought from the northern counties to 
overawe the citizens. On the 5th of July the coronation of 
Richard and his queen took place. It was attended with more 
than the customary splendor and pageantry, for indeed some 



ANNE OF WARWICK. 229 

of the preparations had been intended for the coronation of the 
heir of King Edward the Fourth, who, with his brother, had 
ere this been consigned to an untimely grave. The great mag- 
nificence of this ceremony was also intended to dazzle the peo- 
ple, and prevent them from" directing their attention to the de- 
fective title of Richard. Without entering into all the details, 
it may suffice to say that no point of ceremony was allowed to 
be omitted, and it seems to have struck Richard that he had 
given deadly cause of offense to the Yorkists, he appeared on 
this occasion anxious to show the utmost court to the Lancas- 
trians, in order to bind them to his interests. But in this he 
signally failed, and such was the attachment of the people to 
that illustrious line that they preferred a collateral branch of 
that house to a direct descendant of the house of York. 

On the day of coronation King Richard and his queen came 
from Whitehall to Westminster, where they walked barefoot 
to King Edward's shrine, preceded by the clergy, bearing 
crosses, and the great officers of the household, bearing the re- 
galia. After making their offerings, they proceeded to the 
high altar, where they were crowned by Cardinal Bouchier, 
and then returned to Westminster, where a splendid feast had 
been prepared for them. Queen Anne, upon her coronation 
day, was more regally accoutred than of any of her royal pre- 
decessors. Amongst the items on record we find twenty-seven 
yards of white cloth of gold, for the queen, for a kirtle and 
train, and a mantle of the same, richly fured with ermine. In 
this dress she rode in her litter from the Tower to the palace 
of Westminster. Still more splendid were her coronation 
robes, which were all of rich purple velvet, furred with ermine, 
and adorned with rings and tassels of gold. She wore a golden 
circlet with precious stones upon her head, and thus attired 
she walked under a canopy, at each corner of which was a bell 
of gold. On each side of her walked a bishop, and her train 
was borne by my lady of Richmond. 

After the coronation the queen and her son resided at Wind- 
sor Castle. They then went on a progress, in the .course of 
which they made a long stay at Warwick Castle,' and here the 
king joined them. Thence they proceeded to York, where 
they were recrowned, and the formal investiture of their son, 
Edward, as Prince of Wales, took place. After the coronation 
Queen Anne walked through the streets of that city holding 
the little prince by the hand, while on his head he wore the 
demi-crown appointed for the heir of England. 



230 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

While enjoying his festivities at this place, Richard was 
hastily called away to suppress a rebellion headed by the Duke 
of Buckingham. Queen Anne accompanied him, sending her 
son to Middleham Castle, and there Prince Edward expired 
in March, 1484, in a manner not explained. The king and 
queen were at Nottingham Castle when their son died, or, as 
it would appear, lost his life ; for the family chronicler terms it 
"an unhappy death." This blow struck to the heart of the 
queen, for in her boy all her hopes were centered. She was 
inconsolable, and yielding herself up to grief, she soon after 
fell a victim to her maternal love. 

Whether Richard ever intended to divorce her it is impos- 
sible to say. The declining health of the queen, however, gave 
but too sure an indication of her approaching dissolution, and 
her end was hastened by the most startling rumors. Once .she 
was informed that her death was determined on by the king, 
but when in her agony she appealed to her husband to know 
"what she had done to deserve death," Richard soothed her with 
fair words and smiles, and bade her "be of good cheer, for, in 
sooth, she had no other cause." Again the queen was told 
that the king was impatient for her death, in order that he 
might marry his niece, Elizabeth of York. To this tale she 
gave no credence, but received this young princess with her 
four sisters, with all honorable courtesy, at court upon the 
occasion of the Christmas festivals, which were kept with 
great state in Westminster Hall. 

The queen's health continued to decline, and at length, worn 
out with affliction and sorrow, she expired upon the 16th of 
March, 1485, at the palace of Westminster, at the early age 
of thirty-one. 

On the day of her death there happened the greatest eclipse 
of the sun that had been known for some years, which prob- 
ably added to the excitement against Richard, who was sup- 
posed by some to have murdered his queen. But there is not 
much foundation for this opinion ; rather let it be believed 
that when Richard followed to the grave the remains of his 
unhappy queen, who had been his companion in childhood, 
the tears which he then shed were those of sincere regret. 

Anne of Warwick was interred with regal splendor near the 
altar at Westminster, not very distant from the spot now oc- 
cupied by the tomb of Anne of Cleves, but no monument has 
been raised to show where the remains of Richard's queen 
were deposited. 



ELIZABETH OF YORK, 

QUEEN OF HENRY THE SEVENTH. 

Elizabeth of York was the first offspring of Edward the 
Fourth and Elizabeth Woodville, whom his romantic passion 
elevated to a throne. She was born at the palace of Westmin- 
ster in 1466, and was as warmly welcomed by her parents as 
if a prince had been granted them. Their satisfaction was not, 
however, shared by their subjects, for in the troubled times 
in which she first saw the light a male successor to the throne 
was felt by the people to be necessary to the maintenance of 
its strength and dignity, both much endangered by the mar- 
riage of her parents and the evils it entailed. Two more 
daughters followed Elizabeth, to the great discontent of the 
people, nor was it until they had despaired of a male heir to 
the crown that one was granted. A year after the birth of 
Elizabeth her father had. embroiled himself with the all-pow- 
erful Earl of Warwick, by the resumption of the manors 
of Penley and Widestone, formerly possessed by his brother 
George, archbishop of York ; and by depriving him of the seals, 
which he bestowed on Robert Stillington, bishop of Bath, whom 
he made Chancellor of England. The grants conferred on 
Warwick and his brothers, and particularly these last, though 
of great importance, were well merited, and the resumption 
of them being considered as acts of ingratitude, indisposed 
many towards the king, who could ill afford the loss of any 
portion of his popularity at that crisis, when the exactions of 
the queen and the vast favor shown to her family caused such 
general dissatisfaction. 

From the commencement of the acknowledgment of his 
marriage, Edward had been incited to ill-will against War- 
wick and his brothers by the Woodvilles, or Widevilles, as 
they were then called, the family of the queen, who, jealous 
of the influence of Warwick with the king, sought all means 

231 



z$2 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

in their power to diminish it. In 1468 Warwick was accused, 
on the hearsay evidence of a mean person, of favoring the 
party of Margaret of Anjou, and commissioners were sent to 
examine the earl at Middleham, where he was then residing. 
The charge was proved to be wholly unfounded, but the insult 
was too great to be overlooked by a man whose pride and high 
sense of honor rendered him peculiarly sensitive to aught that 
impugned either. The unpopularity of the Woodvilles, to 
whom this insult was attributed, created such general sym- 
pathy in favor of Warwick, that the king, alarmed for the 
possible result, went in person to Nottingham, attended by a 
guard of two hundred gentlemen, and effected a reconcilia- 
tion between the Archbishop of York and the Earl of Rivers, 
father of the queen, which a little later led to the archbishop's 
making peace between his brother, the Earl of Warwick, and 
Lord Herbert (brother-in-law to the queen), and the Lords 
Stafford and Audley. 

But though apparently reconciled, Warwick could not forget 
the injury he had received, nor could those who had inflicted 
it forgive the humiliation of being defeated in their attempt 
to destroy him. The king's brother, the Duke of Clarence, 
was no less indisposed towards the queen's relations, on whom 
he saw all court favors lavished, while he was treated with 
indifference, if not with slight. 

Warwick, aware of this, and desirous, for his ow T n safety, 
of making a party against his enemies, offered the hand of his 
fair daughter Isabella to Clarence, who gladly accepted the 
proposal, which secured him not only a beautiful woman, but 
one of the highest family and greatest fortune in the king- 
dom. Ill could Warwick brook the dissatisfaction betrayed 
by the king when intelligence of the proposed marriage reached 
him, but still less could he pardon the efforts made by Edward 
to prevent the pope from granting a dispensation for the union, 
rendered necessary by the consanguinity of the parties. Paul 
the Third, then on the papal throne, granted the dispensation 
in spite of all the attempts of Edward to dissuade him from it, 
and on the nth of July, 1469, the Duke of Clarence married 
Isabella, in the church of Notre Dame at Calais, of which 
place her father, the Earl of Warwick, was governor. 

The partiality of the king for the queen's relations, and the 
desire to advance their interests, continued unimpaired, and 
perpetually involved him in trouble. When the Duke of Clar- 



ELIZABETH OF YORK. 233 

ence and Warwick returned to England, they endeavored to 
remonstrate with him, but sovereigns are seldom disposed to 
listen to advice, and least of all that coming from persons 
against whom they entertain any jealousy. 

Another insult was offered to Warwick in 1470, well calcu- 
lated to open old wounds and revive former animosities. The 
king, being in Hertfordshire, was invited by the Archbishop 
of York to an entertainment at More Park, which he accepted. 
Before supper, John Ratcliffe, afterwards Lord Fitzwalter, 
gave him private notice that one hundred armed men were in 
ambush to seize and carry him off; when the king secretly 
left the house, mounted his horse, and, attended only by a few 
followers, fled to Windsor. The information was utterly false, 
and that the king should credit and act on it, was an offense 
not to be overlooked by even a much less susceptible person 
than Warwick. The smoldering flames of animosity, kept 
down, but not extinguished, on this fresh provocation, burst 
out anew, and notwithstanding that the king's mother induced 
him, Warwick and Clarence to meet at Baynard's Castle, the 
peace there established between them resembled more a hollow 
truce than a sincere reconciliation. Shortly after the commo- 
tion in consequence of which Sir Robert Welles and Sir 
Thomas de la Saunde were beheaded, Edward, on suspicion 
of Warwick and Clarence being privy to the affair, published 
a proclamation offering a reward for the apprehension of the 
duke and his father-in-law of one hundred pounds a year in 
land forever, or one thousand pounds in money for the cap- 
ture of each. They were in the west of England at this time, 
and embarking at Dartmouth, sailed for Calais. Arrived in 
that harbor, no sooner did they attempt to approach the town 
than they were fired at and compelled to put to sea, and the 
Duchess of Clarence, being seized with the pangs of parturi- 
tion, gave birth to a son. Warwick had counted on a better 
reception from his lieutenant at Calais, a M. de Vauclere, a 
Gascon, in whom he placed great confidence ; but whether this 
person was more intent on securing his own safety, or was 
playing a double part, he so managed as to give every show 
of resistance to Warwick, who only, with difficulty, could ob- 
tain two flagons of wine for the refreshment of the ladies on 
board, who were extremely sick, and then sailed for Nor- 
mandy. Here, however, by the entreaties of Louis the Eleventh 
he was persuaded to a meeting with Margaret of Anjou, the 



234 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

cause of whose son he was induced, against his better judg- 
ment, to espouse, which led to a revolution in England. Un- 
prepared for the landing of Warwick and the forces he brought, 
the intelligence of which was conveyed to him by Alexander 
Carlile, sergeant of the minstrels, who found his soveregin 
in bed, Edward had no time to do more than consult with 
Lord Hastings, chamberlain of the household, and on whose 
fidelity he could rely. Following his counsel, he lost not a 
moment in reaching the seaside, and, accompanied by the Duke 
of Gloucester and eight hundred light horse, he embarked at 
Lynn for Holland, wholly unprovided with money or clothes, 
so sudden and hurried had been his departure. He narrowly 
escaped being taken, but was safely landed at Alkmar, leaving 
Warwick master of England, to replace Henry the Sixth again 
on the throne. The queen, alarmed for her safety and that of 
her children, took refuge with them in the sanctuary of West- 
minster, where she had her privilege registered. She was 
then within a short time of her accouchement, and in a month 
after gave birth to a son, of whom it might truly be said that 
he was "baptized in tears," so great were the difficulties and 
sorrows in which his mother found herself placed when he 
was born. The womanly gentleness of Elizabeth, and the pa- 
tience with which, under such trying circumstances, she sup- 
ported the privations and hardships to which she and her chil- 
dren were reduced, won her the sympathy of all the wives and 
mothers in the kingdom, and allayed the ill-will incurred by 
her too great devotion to her relations. Melancholy must 
have been the reflections of the poor queen, when she looked on 
the innocent face of the first son God had given her, born in 
a prison, to the privileges accorded to which he alone owed 
his safety, and was made aware that her royal husband, his 
father, was a fugitive, declared a traitor to his country and a 
usurper of the crown — that infant son so long desired, whose 
birth but a few weeks before would have been hailed with 
public rejoicings and private rapture, now unnoticed, save 
by his doting mother, and surrounded by all the unmistakable 
symptoms of the poverty and misfortunes to which he seemed 
born heir. 

Too young to be aware of the dangers and troubles in which 
her parents were involved, as also that by the birth of her 
brother her claims to a crown were destroyed, the youthful 
Elizabeth knew sorrow only by seeing it pictured in the fair 



ELIZABETH OF YORK. 235 

face of her mother, and in the gloomy ones of those around 
her. Happy immunity from care permitted only to child- 
hood ! But better days were in store for both mother and 
daughter . 

The Duke of Bourgogne, less desirous to serve the interests 
of his wife's brother, Edward, than to forward his own against 
Louis the Eleventh, who had espoused the part of Warwick, 
now furnished Edward with money, and allowed Louis de 
Bruges, lord of Grothuse, governor of Holland, to supply him 
with forces. With this powerful aid and about one thousand 
or fifteen hundred English soldiers, Edward made a descent 
on England, the successful termination of which at Raven- 
spur, in Yorkshire, may, in a great measure, be attributed to 
his having persuaded the Yorkists that he came not to depose 
King Henry, but to recover the duchy of York, his own patri- 
mony. Once in possession of York, he strengthened it, raised 
new forces, obtained money, and proceeded towards London, 
which, by a train of fortuitous circumstances, the treason of 
some of Warwick's partisans and the devotion of Edward's, 
he was enabled to enter on the nth of April, and immediately 
seized the palace of his helpless rival, Henry the Sixth, and 
committed him to the Tower. He then hastened to the sanc- 
tuary, where his infant son was presented to him by its joy- 
ful mother. The meeting must have been a touching one ; for 
although Edward had been so successful, all danger was not 
yet over; he knew Warwick too well not to be fully aware 
that that brave soldier would manfully contest the cause he 
had adopted ; and although he removed the queen and his 
children from the sanctuary to Baynard's Castle that day, he 
could not count what the result of the battle, which he knew 
must be fought within a short time, might produce, or whether 
they might not again be driven to have recourse to it. Edward 
was not permitted to devote many hours to his wife and chil- 
dren, and having placed them in the Tower, where the unfor- 
tunate Henry the Sixth was a prisoner, he on Easter-day, the 
14th of April, 1471, gained the hard-fought battle of Barnet, 
in which he displayed no less courage than military skill. Here 
Warwick and his brother, the Marquis of Montacute, lost 
their lives. The first, having achieved wonders of bravery, 
fell dead covered with wounds. The second was said to have 
been killed by one of Warwick's officers, on seeing him, when 
the battle was lost, putting on Edward's livery to save him- 
self. 



236 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

While Edward was quelling his enemies in Gloucestershire, 
the queen and her children were exposed to some danger in 
the Tower by an attempt made by Thomas Neville, a natural 
son of the late William, Lord Fauconberge, to take it. Edward 
having gained the" battle of Tewkesbury, hastened to the de- 
fense of London, and having pursued Thomas Neville to 
Sandwich, to which place he had retreated, reduced that town 
and put an end to the last attempt of the Lancastrian party 
to dispute the crown with him. 

Young as was Elizabeth, she had already, although uncon- 
sciously, experienced some of the vicissitudes of fortune, to 
which the great are more frequently exposed than the less ele- 
vated, and her destiny had been placed in other hands than 
those of her father. The sovereigns of the period to which 
we refer were in the habit of using their children as instru- 
ments for forming treaties between them. Was an enemy 
to be conciliated, a dangerous neighbor to be bought over, or 
a wavering friend to be secured, the offer of a prince or prin- 
cess in marriage, with a dower in proportion to the importance 
of the object to be gained, presented a ready means for ac- 
complishing it. Edward the Fourth availed himself of this 
royal privilege ; for he offered the hand of Elizabeth when 
she was presumptive heiress to his crown, and still a child of' 
not more than five or six years old, to various parties ; to 
George Neville, in order to conciliate the Neville family, cre- 
ating him Duke of Bedford ; to Margaret of Anjou for her son 
Edward, as afterwards to Louis the Eleventh for the Dauphin 
of France ; while Cecelia, his third daughter, not then five 
years old, he offered to James the Third, king of Scotland, 
for his eldest son. 

In 1480, Elizabeth being then in her fourteenth year, and 
the Dauphin of France, to whom she had been affianced in 
1476, being in his ninth, Edward, dissatisfied with the want 
of desire to bring the affair to a conclusion evinced by Louis, 
sent John, Lord Howard, to France, to arrange the time and 
place for the marriage, and for Elizabeth's going to France 
and taking possession of her dower. The crafty Louis, who 
had gained all the objects for which he had made this treaty 
of marriage, was so little disposed to complete it that he had 
entered into a new one for marrying the dauphin to Margaret, 
daughter of Maximilian of Austria, and Mary, heiress of Bour- 
gogne. Angered by this breach of faith and gross insult, 



ELIZABETH OF YORK. 237 

Edward vowed to avenge it, but dared not carry war into 
France while on bad terms with Scotland. He, however, so 
successfully managed the invasion of Scotland, and so grati- 
fied his subjects by the recovery of Berwick, the maintenance 
of a garrison at which place had been so heavy an "expense 
that they, by their liberality, enabled him to prepare for a war 
with France. While bent on this project, he was attacked 
by a quartan ague, which after ten or twelve days, carried 
him off on the 9th of April, 1483, in the forty-first year of his 
age, leaving two sons and six daughters. No sooner had Rich- 
ard, Duke of Gloucester, brother to the late king and uncle to 
the present, obtained possession of Edward the Fifth, on his 
route from Ludlow to London, and imprisoned Anthony, Lord 
Rivers, and Sir Richard Grey, the brother and son of the 
queen, than she, greatly alarmed, once more sought refuge 
in the sanctuary with the Marquis of Dorset and her daugh- 
ters, and her second son, Richard, Duke of York. But the 
Duke of Gloucester, having succeeded in getting himself de- 
clared Protector and Defender of the kingdom, proved too 
unequal a foe for the widowed queen to contend with, who, 
having through her own exactions and those of her family, 
incurred much enmity, now found herself friendless in her 
hour of need. Having craftily concealed his projects by pro- 
claiming his young nephew king, and afterwards by making 
preparations for his coronation, Richard complained to the 
council of the queen's having entered the sanctuary and keep- 
ing her second son there, as an insult offered to himself, and 
calculated to convey the worst suspicions against him. He 
alleged, also, that the youthful king pined for his brother's 
company. This artful conduct blinded all parties ; and the 
archbishops, with the Duke of Buckingham, the Lord How- 
ard, and others of the council, were appointed to wait upon 
the queen and persuade her to deliver up the Duke of York. 
Whatever presentiments of danger may have filled the heart 
of the unhappy mother, and that she had such can hardly be 
doubted by her still remaining with her daughters in the sanc- 
tuary, she was lured into delivering the doomed boy to his 
enemy, and never more beheld him. The king and his brother 
now in the power of their ruthless uncle; he hesitated not to 
take measures, not only for their destruction, but for the ruin 
and degredation of the queen and her daughters, by having 
a charge brought forward to prove that by a former marriage 



238 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

between Edward the Fourth and the Lady Eleanor Talbot, 
his marriage with the Lady Grey was null and void, and his 
offspring by her illegitimate. 

The marriage between Edward and the Lady Eleanor Tal- 
bot was said to have been solemnized by Dr. Stillington, af- 
terwards Bishop of Bath and Chancellor of England, who, 
being urged by the Shrewsbury family to seek some repara- 
tion for this ill-used lady at the hands of the king, and being 
too mindful of his own interest to risk offending his master, 
declined doing so. They then addressed themselves to the 
Duke of Gloucester with the same prayer, and he — perhaps 
desirous to make the king feel that his secret was known to 
him — revealed the affair to his brother, who, far from afford- 
ing any satisfaction to the woman he had betrayed, took ven- 
geance on Dr. Stillington, whom he blamed for making the 
marriage known. He removed him from his privy council, 
and condemned him to prison, where he was long confined, 
and only released on the payment of a heavy fine. Such a 
secret in the possession of so artful and ambitious a man as 
the Duke of Gloucester was a dangerous weapon to use against 
the queen and her children, and he failed not to take advan- 
tage of it. He had consulted some learned civilians on the case 
and they had declared the marriage of the late king illegal, 
in consequence of the former contract, and the children ille- 
gitimate, and consequently incapable of inheriting. The at- 
tainder of the late Duke of Clarence having rendered his off- 
spring likewise incapable of inheriting, the Duke of Glouces- 
ter was pronounced to be the rightful heir to the throne. The 
partisans of Gloucester, and enemies of the Woodvilles, alike 
lent credence to this opinion, so that Richard found himself, 
through his own crooked policy and the exertions of his friends, 
addressed by a large body of the spiritual and temporal lords 
to accept the throne, to which they asserted he was entitled. 
Not content with declaring the marriage of Edward with Eliz- 
abeth Grey illegal, they accused her of having accomplished 
it by her sorcery and the witchcraft of her brother. Nay more, 
Richard himself in council bared his withered arm and declared 
his infirmity to have been produced by the same cause, wrought 
by the same persons, although it was well known that he had 
been deformed since his birth. 

But although Richard left nothing undone to prejudice the 
people against the claims of his nephews, whom he kept. close 



ELIZABETH OF YORK. 239 

prisoners in the Tower, he did not openly oresume to usurp 
the throne of the elder until he had artfully arranged that he 
should be petitioned to accept it. This measure was accom- 
plished through the Duke of Buckingham's going to Guildhall, 
accompanied by several lords, while the mayor, aldermen and 
common council were there assembled, and making them a 
speech, in which the grievances of the reign of Edward the 
Fourth were painted in the darkest colors, the rights of his 
offspring set aside on the plea of illegitimacy, and the just 
claim of Richard to the throne asserted ; he, by his passionate 
address, won some of the crowd, who forced an entrance to 
the hall to cry out for King Richard. The persons thus crying 
out were of mean condition, being only the servants and tools 
of Buckingham and his friends. Nevertheless he chose to 
accept their voices as those of the whole body present, and 
ordered the mayor, aldermen and commons to attend the next 
day at Baynard s Castle, where the Protector was residing, 
to join with the lords in an address to Richard to accept the 
crown. The wily and ambitious plotter affected to decline the 
prayer ; but Buckingham, with whom probably the whole affair 
had been concocted, declared in the name of all present that if 
he refused, they should offer the succession to some other per- 
son, they having determined that no child of Edward the Fourth 
should reign. This declaration vanquished the affected scru- 
ples of Richard, and on the day after, the 26th of June, he 
went to Westminster Hall, seated himself in the chair of state 
his deceased brother had been wont to fill, and which had been 
prepared for his nephew, and the following day was proclaimed 
king. All the preparations made for the coronation of the 
unfortunate Edward the Fifth were now used for that of his 
wicked uncle and his victim wife Anne ; and the vast treasure 
amassed by the late king was employed to reward new friends 
and conciliate old foes. The coronation over, Richard the 
Third, accompanied by his queen and their son Edward, cre- 
ated Prince of Wales, set out for the north in the early part of 
September. At Coventry the royal trio appeared in regal state, 
wearing crowns, and Richard exercised a princely generosity 
to gain the good will of the people. But here news of the 
most unexpected nature was forwarded to him, namely, of the 
insurrection of the Duke of Buckingham, which called forth 
all the energy and courage which he displayed to preserve 
a throne which he had so unlawfully usurped. Perhaps, had 



2 4 o THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

this outbreak not occurred, Richard might not have caused 
the murder of his innocent and helpless nephews in the Tower, 
but this event proved to him the instability of his tenure of 
the crown, and urged him to remove by death those who had a 
better right to it. 

The sanctuary, from the moment that Richard became aware 
of the arrangement entered into between the unhappy Eliza- 
beth Woodville, or Lady Grey, as he commanded her to be 
named, and Margaret, the mother of Henry Tudor, for the 
marriage of their children, Elizabeth and Henry, was no longer 
a safe abode for the queen and her daughters. Closely guarded 
by Richard's orders, they were exposed to daily hardships, 
and might at any hour be sentenced to positive privation by 
the will of their remorseless foe. The wretchedness in which 
the unfortunate queen and her daughters were involved may 
more easily be imagined than described. The violent deaths 
of her brother and son, followed by the murder of the two 
princes in the Tower, inflicted such overwhelming grief on the 
queen that her health and peace were crushed by the blow. 
Her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was then of an age to keenly 
sympathize in her mother's sorrow, and so fondly attached to 
her brothers as to experience the most heartfelt grief for their 
loss, and the utmost horror at the manner of it. In order to 
mitigate the censure he had incurred through the murder of 
the princes, and also probably with a view to a future union 
with his niece Elizabeth, Queen Anne being then in a hopeless 
state of health, and Richard having lost his only son, he in- 
sisted on the queen and her daughters leaving the sanctuary 
and resigning themselves to his protection. The terror he 
had inspired in the breast of his hapless sister-in-law may be 
judged by her making a condition that he should take a sol- 
emn oath to preserve the lives of her daughters before she 
would consent to leave the sanctuary. Again was this poor 
and helpless woman separated from her children ; for while 
they were brought to court, and placed under the protection 
of their dying aunt, Anne, the wife of Richard, their mother 
was consigned to the care of one of the creatures of Richard, 
who ministered to her wants as if she were a lunatic, instead 
of a broken-hearted woman ; the abode assigned her being in 
some mean apartments in the palace of Westminster formerly 
used only by menials. That she was under personal constraint 
may be concluded from the instructions given to the person 
who had charge of her. 



ELIZABETH OF YORK. 241 

Queen Anne, who had drunk deeply of the cup of affliction, 
must have felt commiseration for the youthful nieces of her 
ruthless husband. She treated them with uniform kindness, 
and distinguished Elizabeth by showing a great preference 
for her society. 

But while Richard believed that he had crushed insurrection 
and quelled his foes, intelligence reached him that Henry Tu- 
dor had effected a landing at Milford Haven with 3,000 men 
from Normandy. Counting on the aid of Thomas, Lord Stan- 
ley, who had married his mother, and whose brothers, as well 
as himself, possessed considerable power, he had disembarked 
at Milford Haven, knowing that Sir William Stanley, who 
was Chamberlain of North Wales, was apprised of his com- 
ing. The battle of Bosworth and death of Richard was the 
result of Henry's invasion ; and the marriage between him and 
Elizabeth, as arranged a considerable time before, was sol- 
emnized at Westminster on the 18th of January, i486, when 
this union of the Roses of York and Lancaster put an end for- 
ever to the wars of the rival houses. But though now wedded 
to him to whom she had been for some time betrothed, the 
lovely and amiable Elizabeth had no great reason to be grati- 
fied ; for the indifference evinced by Henry the Seventh for 
the marriage proved that he had either depreciated her at- 
tractions or yielded his heart to those of another, neither of 
which conclusions could be otherwise than humiliating to one 
so fair. He had entered London as a victorious sovereign on 
the 28th of August, 1485, yet did not claim the fulfillment of 
Elizabeth's pledge to wed him until nearly five months after, 
nor without being twice reminded of his engagement, first 
by his privy council, and secondly by a petition from both 
houses of parliament. This dilatoriness on his part was cer- 
tainly very unflattering to his future bride ; and his ungracious 
determination to claim the crown as his own right, without any 
reference to hers, was no less so. The delay required for pro- 
curing the pope's dispensation for the marriage could not be 
alleged as an excuse, for it arrived subsequently, instead of 
prior to the marriage ; and even as regarded the dispensations, 
for there were no less than three, Henry the Seventh betrayed 
a certain want of courtesy to his queen ; for the two first, which 
acknowledged her as the undoubted, heir to Edward the Fourth, 
did not satisfy him, and in the third he stipulated to have a 
clause entered, that in case of Elizabeth's death without off- 



242 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

spring, the succession was to be continued in any children 
he might have by another wife — -an act of injustice as well 
as one of ungraciousness. How the fair and gentle queen 
bore this conduct we have no authority to judge ; but her deli- 
cate health may be taken as an indication that she felt, al- 
though she might not have resented, that, and the harshness 
with which he is said to have treated her. Elizabeth had not 
been long a wife before she gave hopes of becoming a mother, 
and, as was the usage at that period, in due time withdrew 
from her courtly circle to the chamber designed for her ac- 
couchement. From the chamber of ladies so situated it was 
the custom to exclude air, as well as light, and women only 
were admitted. The walls were covered with rich arras, which 
extended over the sides, including the windows and ceiling; 
that part of it which enveloped the doors and windows being 
made to be drawn back if required. Rich plate and other 
costly decorations and furniture were placed in this chamber 
of retreat, in order that the queen might lack none of the 
splendor suitable to her rank. At the door she- took leave of 
all the officers of her court, and from that hour until she left 
the room was waited on only by ladies, who had all things 
needful for her service brought to the door. The queen's 
accouchement took place at Winchester on the 20th of Sep- 
tember, and occurred a month sooner than was expected ; not- 
withstanding which, the infant, afterwards named Arthur, 
was a promising child, with no appearance of the delicacy pe- 
culiar to children born before the regular time. But though 
the birth of an heir to his crown might be thought to be the 
completion of the felicity of Henry the Seventh, it was not 
so ; for there were those amongst his subjects who were little 
disposed to be obedient, or to let him enjoy a peaceful reign. 
These were the partisans of Richard the Third, who had neither 
forgotten nor forgiven their defeat at Bosworth. The first 
outbreak was that headed by Lord Lovell, Sir Humphrey Staf- 
ford and Thomas Stafford, his brother, who, while the king 
was proceeding to York, left the sanctuary at Colchester, at 
which they had taken refuge and remained ever since the death 
of Richard, refusing to trust to Henry's clemency, and who 
now, collecting their forces, determined to dethrone him. The 
news reached him at York, and, unprepared as he was, he 
evinced considerable resolution and vigor to meet the dangers 
that menaced him. He armed three thousand men, employ- 



ELIZABETH OF YORK. 243 

ing tanned leather as a substitute for armor, and giving the 
command of them to Jasper, Duke of Bedford, dispatched 
them with instructions to their leader to fight or pardon, as 
might seem best. The offer of pardon had a good effect. Lord 
Lovell fled, the rebels laid down their arms, and Stafford took 
refuge at Colnham, near Abingdon, until then supposed to be 
invested with the privileges of a sanctuary. Its claims to this 
distinction being examined in the -King's Bench, were pro- 
nounced to be unavailing in cases of open rebellion, and the 
Staffords were forcibly taken from it and transmitted to the 
Tower; whence, shortly after, Sir Humphrey was removed 
to Tyburn, where he was executed ; his brother Thomas, being 
deemed less culpable, received the royal pardon. 

The next interruption to public peace in England was the 
imposition practiced of passing Lambert Simnel for Edward, 
Earl of Warwick, then a prisoner in the Tower. To defeat 
the plot, the real Warwick was brought forth through the city 
and shown to the people. Nevertheless, the counterfeit one 
continued to retain many supporters, especially in Ireland, 
where he was not only acknowledged king, but absolutely 
crowned. 

Henry defeated this conspiracy as well as the former one, 
and among the prisoners taken was Lambert Simnel, the pre- 
tended Earl of Warwick. Questioned why he had lent him- 
self to the conspiracy, the young man confessed his low birth, 
and owned that he had yielded to the wishes of others ; on 
which Henry pardoned him, and with an affected generosity 
assigned him the office of turnspit in the royal kitchen — an 
office than "which," as Speed quaintly writes, quoting from 
Polydore Virgil, "if his wit and spirit had answered to his 
titles, he would have chosen much rather to have been turned 
from the ladder by an hangman." Henry's policy in thus de- 
riding and degrading the pretender to his throne betrayed that 
knowledge of mankind which was conspicuous in his charac- 
ter; for nothing tends more to crush an enemy in the eyes of 
his partisans than to make light of him, and expose him to 
ridicule, while the exercise of severity towards him gives him 
importance and excites sympathy in his favor. 

So jealous was Henry of establishing his own separate right 
to the throne, independent of that of his amiable and gentle 
spouse, that he did not have her crowned until 1487, which 
proves that he conferred the crown on her as his wife. Indeed 



244 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

there is reason to suppose that he might have still longer post- 
poned her coronation had not the partisans of the house of 
York betrayed sundry symptoms of discontent that it had not 
already taken place. This grand ceremony, like most similar 
ones of that age, was graced by a magnificent procession on the 
Thames, to conduct the queen from Greenwich to the Tower, 
where she was received by the king with a show of tenderness 
very gratifying to those who witnessed it, a general belief pre- 
vailing that he was harsh and unkind in his conduct towards 
her. No device or pageantry that could add splendor to the 
scene had been omitted in this procession by water. The 
barges of the different civic companies escorted the royal one, 
and many were the picturesque decorations, in which the arms 
and emblems of the House of Tudor with the Roses of York 
and Lancaster, no longer rivals, but united in garlands, were 
tastefully introduced. Joyous music was not wanting, and 
often was it interrupted by the loyal acclamations of the crowds 
who lined the shore to view the pageant. The following day 
the queen proceeded in state from the Tower to the palace s£- 
Westminster, nor was the procession formed to attend her less 
splendid than that of the previous day. Hitherto Elizabeth 
had been seldom seen by her subjects. Her life, before her 
marriage, had been secluded, either in the privacy of the pal- 
ace or the gloom of the sanctuary; and subsequently, the 
greater portion had been spent in the country, at Winchester 
and elsewhere. Her loveliness had therefore all the additional 
attraction of novelty for the eyes that gazed on her, as if they 
never could turn from her beautiful face and graceful yet dig- 
nified figure, which lent to, instead of acquiring, charms from 
the regal habiliments. These consisted of a robe composed of 
white cloth of gold, trimmed with ermine, and confined to her 
shape, over which fell a mantle of the same materials. Her fair 
hair in rich profusion floated down her back, confined to her 
head by a network of gold, and a circlet of precious stones, 
the dazzling luster of which seemed to give a glory to the se- 
raphic character of her face. Faultless in features and figure, 
with a complexion of exquisite fairness, and eyes of cerulean 
blue, the trials she had already passed through, though only 
then in her twenty-second year, had given her countenance an 
expression of such heavenly resignation and serenity that none 
could behold her without a mingled sentiment of reverence and 
adoration, such as men believe that beatified saints only can 
inspire. 



ELIZABETH OF YORK. 245 

Henry took no part in the ceremonies of his queen's corona- 
tion, but at the festivals which followed it he appeared and 
shared the pleasures. The absence of the queen-dowager from 
the coronation of her daughter might justify the rumors that 
she was harshly treated by the king, her son-in-law. It was 
said that he never forgave her for consenting to a reconcilia- 
tion with her most cruel enemy Richard the Third, and for her 
consenting to his proposal of wedding her daughter Elizabeth, 
affianced as she had been Jo himself — a proposal, however, as 
we have shown, eagerly accepted by Elizabeth ; and of sending 
for her son, the Marquis of Dorset, to abandon his cause. 

The decree passed at the council held at the monastery of 
Carthusian monks near Richmond, soon after the discovery of 
the conspiracy of Lambert Simnel, proves the ill-will of Henry 
against his wife's mother ; for the second article of it contains 
the following sentence : "That Elizabeth, late wife to Edward 
the Fourth, and mother-in-law to Henry, now king of Eng- 
land, should forfeit all her lands and goods, for that (contrary 
to her faith given to them who were in the plot for bringing in 
King Henry) she had yielded up her daughter to the hands of 
the tyrant Richard." Henry seems to have forgotten that the 
unfortunate Elizabeth Woodville was wholly in the power of 
Richard when she made those enforced concessions to his will, 
or he must have been enraged by the report then circulated, 
that she had lent her countenance, in common with her sister- 
in-law, the Duchess of Burgundy, to the impostor Lambert 
Simnel. If we may credit Speed, this unfortunate queen, after 
being despoiled of her dowry, was condemned to confinement 
in the monastery of Bermondsey, in Southwark, where finally 
she ended her days. 

On the 1st of November, 1489, the queen took to her cham- 
ber, with all the etiquette formerly practiced at Winchester, 
but on this occasion in the palace of Westminster, to prepare 
for the advent of her second child, and on the 29th. she gave 
birth to a princess, named Margaret. 

The good intelligence which always reigned between the 
queen and the mother of her husband may be received as evi- 
dence of the fine qualities and sweet temper of Elizabeth, for 
rarely does it occur that mothers-in-law feel any warm affection 
for the wives of their sons ; and although Margaret Beaufort 
was justly accounted one of the most worthy women of her time, 
she might not be so superior to the generality of her sex in 



2 4 6 • THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

this instance had not the goodness of Elizabeth won her esteem 
and regard. Whatever may have been the truth relative to the 
harshness which Henry the Seventh has been accused of prac- 
ticing toward his gentle wife, there is no proof extant of her 
having ever resented or exposed it, while the whole tenor of 
her wedded life testifies that she was a most affectionate and 
devoted wife, as well as a most tender mother. Her attach- 
ment to her own relations, too, was fond and steady, exempli- 
fied ±>y a thoughtful care for their comfort and independence, 
always exercised at the cost of no little self-sacrifice on her 
part, invariably borne without a murmur or attempt to sub- 
tract from what she deemed necessary for their wants. It was 
by this kind liberality to her sisters that Elizabeth sometimes 
found herself in debt, and compelled to have recourse to a sys- 
tem of personal economy that many a private gentlewoman 
would have thought it a hardship to endure. It is touching to 
read the proofs of this self-imposed frugality in a queen, and, 
moreover, in one so fair, who might be supposed to take pleas- 
ure in the adorning of a beauty for which Nature had done so 
much; and knowing the motives for her economy, every no- 
tice of her mended clothes invests her with a charm in our eyes 
that the richest garments could not bestow. The affection of 
Elizabeth of York for her relations, and the manner in which 
it was proved, differed materially from that of her mother, 
Elizabeth Woodville, towards hers. She used no undue influ- 
ence for their promotion, sought not to enrich them at the cost 
of others, or to match them with age or deformity, or to ele- 
vate them unduly. She relied solely on the sacrifice of her own 
luxuries, nay more, of her absolute necessaries, to furnish 
what she bestowed on her sisters, and by this prudent course 
made no enemies for herself or them. 

On the 28th of June, 1491, Elizabeth gave birth to Henry, 
her second son, in the palace at Greenwich ; and in the follow- 
ing year. her third daughter was born, and named Elizabeth, 
after her mother and herself. In this year the queen-dowager 
died, to the great regret of her daughter, who, though she sel- 
dom saw her, owing to her seclusion in a monastery, continued 
to entertain for her a lively affection. 

The next event that troubled the reign of Henry the Seventh 
was the invasion of Perkin Warbeck, which involved him and 
the kingdom in great difficulties. 

On the 8th of May, 1500, Henry, with his queen, sailed for 



ELIZABETH OF YORK. 247 

Calais, to avoid a pestilence then raging with great fury in 
England. While there, he had an interview with Philip, arch- 
duke of Austria and sovereign of Burgundy and Flanders, in 
which both sovereigns were so well satisfied with each other 
that a marriage was proposed by them between the eldest son 
of Philip, subsequently so celebrated as Charles the Fifth, and 
the Princess Mary, then a child. So gratified was Henry by 
the flattery of Philip, who called him "Father and protector," 
that he sent a full detail of the interviews to the mayor and 
aldermen of London. The pestilence being over, the king and 
queen returned to England in June. In this year the treaty of 
marriage between Prince Arthur and Katharine of Arragon 
was concluded, and the following one the marriage took place. 
In January, 1502, the betrothment of the Princess Margaret 
with King James the Fourth of Scotland occurred ; and these 
were the last festivities in which Elizabeth took a part for a 
considerable time ; for the unexpected and untimely death of 
Prince Arthur, which followed five months after his nuptials, 
plunged his fond mother in such grief as greatly to affect her 
health, never strong, and to exercise a great influence on her 
spirits. But, even while overwhelmed by her own grief, Eliza- 
beth was not unmindful of her widowed daughter-in-law, to 
whom she showed the utmost kindness and sympathy under 
her bereavement. Already had the queen given birth to six 
children: Arthur, her first, born the 20th of September, i486; 
Margaret, the eldest daughter, born on the 29th of November, 
1489; Mary, 1490; Henry, born in 1491 ; Elizabeth, the 2d of 
July, 1492, and Edmund, 1495. Of these, one had died in 
childhood, namely, Edmund ; and Prince Arthur, who expired 
in his sixteenth year. And now the queen's accouchement of 
her seventh child drew near. This event took place in the 
Tower of London, in February, 1503, when she gave birth to 
a daughter named Katherine, who survived but a few days, 
and on the nth of the same month the lovely and gentle Eliza- 
beth yielded up her life in the thirty-seventh year of her age, 
to the general regret of all her subjects. That Henry felt not 
her loss as her virtues deserved is best proved by the desire he 
evinced to supply her place soon after ; and if his matrimonial 
speculations were not carried into effect, the fault lay not in 
his want of a desire to wed. The Queen-dowager of Naples, 
to whom his views were first directed, he gave up on ascertain- 
ing that her dower, which he believed to be very large, was 



248 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

seized by the successor of her husband; and for Margaret, 
duchess-dowager of Savoy, he was in treaty, when ill-health 
warned him to prepare for another world. He outlived his 
lovely and amiable queen little more than six years, she having 
died in February, 1503, and he on the 21st of April, 1509. 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON, 

QUEEN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. 

The subject of this notice was the fourth daughter of 
Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, and first saw the light at 
Alcala di Finari on the 15th of December, 1485. She had only 
reached her fourth year when the conquest of Granada made the 
beautiful and romantic Alhambra her home, and the happy days 
of her childhood were passed in its exqusite halls. The educa- 
tion of the infanta was carefully attended to. The most learned 
men were called in to instruct her, and the queen her mother, 
acknowledged to be one of the most highly educated women 
of her time, superintended her studies. At an early age Kath- 
arine had made a considerable proficiency in Latin, a language 
she never in after-age neglected. 

Few princesses were ever born under more brilliant auspices. 
The offspring of two sovereigns in their separate rights, the 
purest blood of Castile and Arragon mingled in her veins. 
Katharine was only seven years old when Columbus, through 
the aid of her mother, sailed in quest of a western continent, 
and justified by his successful discoveries the encouragement 
afforded him by his liberal and enterprising protectress. 

But as the brightest mornings are often followed by the 
darkest days so was the early and brilliant youth of the infanta 
succeeded by the gloom which shrouded her life soon after she 
exchanged the sunshine of her natal clime of Granada for the 
cloudy and chilly one of England. In 1 501, before she had 
completed her sixteenth year, the hand of Katharine was 
solicited by Henry the Seventh for his eldest son Arthur, a 
prince of great promise, but ten months younger than himself, 
having but just completed his fifteenth year. 

The treaty of marriage was concluded, and the infanta, 
attended by a noble train, left Granada for Corunna, whence 
she was to embark for England, never more to behold her 
native land. Katharine arrived not until October, when she 

249 



250 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

landed at Plymouth, where she was received with every demon- 
stration of joy by all classes in that neighborhood. The king 
dispatched some of the highest of his nobility to attend on her, 
and set out in a few days after to meet her on the road, as did 
Prince Arthur. The first interview took place at Dogmersfield, 
and on the following day the royal procession, set out for 
Chertsey, where they rested at the palace for one night, re- 
ceiving as they progressed every possible mark of respect which 
the subjects of Henry could lavish on them. The third night the 
party stopped at Kingston, and reached Lambeth on the fol- 
lowing day, trave 1 ing so slowly as to have taken as many days 
to accomplish a journey of two hundred and sixteen miles as 
might now suffice to traverse the whole kingdom. 

The personal appearance of Katharine seems to have pleased 
her future husband, as well as his parents. What she, ac- 
customed to the sunny clime of Granada, must have thought 
of the murky one of an English November, we have no clue 
to discover ; but all who have lived in a southern land, and en- 
tered ours in that dreary month, may imagine her feelings. 

On the 14th of November the nuptials were celebrated. The 
Archbishop of Canterbury, assisted by nineteen bishops and 
"abbots mytered," joined their hands, and performed all the 
religious rites on that occasion. Great was the splendor ex- 
hibited at the marriage, a detail of which may be found in 
Stowe by those who take pleasure in such descriptions ; nor 
were the fetes and nuptial feast which followed it, given in the 
bishop's palace of St. Paul's, less gorgeous. A tilting match 
with quaint devices, in which the grotesque and magnificent 
were mingled, took place the succeeding week ; and after this 
display of chivalry, an entertainment on a scale of right regal 
grandeur was given in Westminster Hall, at which the bride 
and bridegroom danced, as did others of the royal family. 

Prince Arthur and Katharine departed for Ludlow Castle, 
in Shropshire, where they were to hold a court, as Prince and 
Princess of Wales, attended by the lords and ladies comprising 
their suite, where they so conducted themselves as to win the 
affections of all around them. 

Short-lived, however, was the happiness of the youthful pair ; 
for in the April that followed his marriage, Prince Arthur 
expired, leaving Katharine a lonely stranger in that distant 
castle, where he closed his life in the sixteenth year of his age. 

The young widow proceeded to the palace at Croydon, there 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 251 

to spend the period of her mourning. Happy had it been for 
her had she returned to her native land, as her parents desired ; 
but the wish to retain the portion of her fortune already re- 
ceived, and to secure the remaining one, as also to save the 
dower which as widow of the Prince of Wales she was en- 
titled to claim from England, induced Henry the Seventh to 
propose a marriage between her and his second son, now heir 
to his crown. That the two persons most interested in this 
proposed union felt no desire for it, may readily be conceded 
when the youth of Henry is considered, he being too young 
to experience the tender passion, or to excite it ; and although 
Katharine yielded obedience to the desire of her parents in 
contracting it, she nevertheless wrote to them that she had no 
inclination for a second marriage in England. When, however, 
all was arranged for the pair being affianced, Henry the 
Seventh, with whom the measure originated, was guilty of an 
artifice which reflects eternal dishonor on his name, and which, 
in after years, involved in misery the life of his daughter-in- 
law. A dispensation had been obtained from Pope Julius the 
Second for the marriage six years previous to its fulfilment, 
and this dispensation had been followed by a solemn contract 
between Henry and Katharine, in June, 1503. What, then, can 
be thought of the dishonorable conduct of Henry the Seventh, 
who, two years after this solemn betrothment, on the day before 
the prince completed the fourteenth year of his age, caused him 
to sign an act protesting against it, and renouncing the con- 
tract he had made him formerly sign ! Various have been the 
motives assigned for this base proceeding : many persons as- 
serted that it was caused by a desire of alarming Ferdinand, 
and extorting from him more advantageous conditions for 
this second marriage, whenever it might be deemed expedient 
to carry it out ; but the real cause seems to have been Henry 
the Seventh's own desire to marry Joanna, Katharine's elder 
sister, himself. Such a connection as father and son married 
to two sisters, was too much even for these times. But Henry's 
scheme for himself failed, through the proved insanity of 
Joanna ; and he then dropped the idea of breaking his son's en- 
gagement. But out of this proceeding sprang all Katharine's 
future troubles; for so soon as it was a matter of convenience 
to Henry the Eighth to get rid of Katharine, he immediately 
returned to this his boyish protest as a matter of conscience. 
If motives of pecuniary interest had, too, entered into the pro- 



252 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

test, they were gratified ; for Ferdinand authorized his ambas- 
sador not only to confirm the former treaty made with Henry 
the Seventh, for the marriage of his son Henry with Katharine, 
Princess of Wales, but to concede an additional condition, 
namely, that no part of her fortune, whether already paid or 
to be paid, should be restored in any case, and to ratify the 
agreement, formerly entered into between the Emperor Max- 
imilian and his daughter Margaret, Duchess of Savoy, for the 
marriage of Charles, Prince of Spain, and Mary of England, 
sister to Henry. 

Ferdinand of Arragon had evinced some dissatisfaction 
that the marriage had been so long postponed, and now, with his 
daughter Jane, as well as Katharine herself, renounced all 
future claim to the portion of Katharine, amounting to no less 
a sum than 200,000 crowns, which was granted absolutely to 
the King of England. That Katharine was now desirous for 
the marriage may be argued from the fact of her asserting, 
that her union with Prince Arthur had not been of a nature to 
oppose her wedding his brother — a statement she need not 
have made, had she wished to avoid the marriage with Henry. 

The ill-starred nuptials were solemnized on the 3d of June, 
1509, at the Bishop of Salisbury's house, in Fleet Street, with 
great magnificence, and the coronation of the royal pair took 
place on the 24th of the same month. Nothing was spared to 
render this ceremony worthy of the occasion, and no incon- 
siderable portion of the vast sum of gold hoarded by Henry 
the Seventh was expended to do honor to it. Nor were the 
subjects of the youthful and pleasure-loving monarch slow to 
adopt his taste for display and splendor, as those disposed to 
consult Hall, Holinshed, and other historians, will find; for 
they were heedless of expense in their dresses for the occasion. 
Katharine was then in her twenty-second year (being five years 
senior to Henry, who was in his eighteenth), and was esteemed 
an attractive, if not a beautiful woman. The dignified formality 
peculiar to her countrywomen of that period somewhat deteri- 
orated from her charms, by giving her an aspect of gravity, 
which made her appear older than she reallv was ; nevertheless 
she was handsome enough to justify the affection with which 
Henry was said to regard her during the first years of their 
union. Independent of the strict observance of etiquette in 
which the Infantas of Spain were brought up, and which must 
more or less influence their demeanor and manners during life, 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 253 

it is probable that, seeing the too great freedom of behavior 
in which Henry was prone to indulge, Katharine might have 
deemed it necessary to oppose a check to it, by the maintenance 
of a grave and queen-like dignity in her own person. The death 
of the king's grandmother followed in five days after his 
coronation ; and a plague, which broke out at Calais, and which 
soon reached London, also marked that year. Neither events 
made any very serious impression on Henry, who, bent on the 
pursuit of pleasure, sought it wherever it tempted him. Per- 
haps the gravity of his queen might have sometimes served as 
a tacit reproach to him in the midst of his masquings and boy- 
like pastimes. If so, it is to his credit, that although naturally 
impatient of aught that even resembled constraint, he for many 
years of their union never violated toward Katharine the rules 
imposed by good-breeding and knightly courtesy to a lady ; nay 
more, he showed a decided preference to her society. Kath- 
arine, likewise, observed an invariable gentleness and affection 
toward Henry, never letting it be seen that she disapproved 
his too great indulgence in those undignified pleasures to which 
he was so addicted — a rare proof of wisdom and tact on her 
part. 

On the 1st of January, 151 1, the queen gave birth to a son, 
whose death at the close of February following destroyed the 
joy which his advent had occasioned. The grief of Katharine 
was long and deep ; and Henry, although greatly disappointed 
at the loss of his son, neglected no means of consoling the 
bereaved mother. To cheer the queen,- he got up a variety of 
sports and pageants. In the midst of these, the people broke 
in upon the revelers, and stripped the king and courtiers, the 
ladies included, of their jewels, and even of their rich dresses. 
The king was stripped to his doublet and drawers ; but he 
treated it only as a jest, and he and his nobles sat down to 
supper in great merriment in their despoiled condition. The 
death of the young prince was soon after followed by the break- 
ing out of a war with France, when Henry had the mortification 
of discovering that his brother-in-law, the King of Scotland, 
secretly sided with that country against him. This war had 
been instigated by Pope Julius the Second, with whom Henry 
and Ferdinand had formed a league to take arms and attack 
France, Henry lured by the hope of recovering his own rights 
in that kingdom, much more than by the desire of maintaining 
the authority of the pope. Another motive for engaging in 



254 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

this war held out to him, and which with so vain-glorious a man 
was well calculated to have considerable weight, was that he 
had learned that the pope intended to take away the title of 
"Christianissimus" from the French king, and confer it uoon 
him. 

Henry did not accompany the troops he sent to join his wily 
father-in-law to attack France ; but the following year, not 
quite satisfied with the proceedings going on, he determined 
to go in person, but previously took measures to guard Eng- 
land against any outbreak on the part of Scotland, which, from 
the decitful nature of its king, he fully anticipated. Henry, 
having appointed Katharine regent, and invested her with al- 
most sovereign power, embarked at Dover, on the last day of 
June, 1 5 13, with about four hundred sail. The queen accom- 
panied him to that port, where they parted with much sorrow 
on her side, while Henry, filled with warlike ardor, thought 
more of the victories he expected to gain than of the regrets 
of his fond wife. Thomas Wolsey, lately taken into high favor, 
accompanied the king as almoner, and also discharged the duty 
of secretary, as may be seen by the letters addressed to him 
by Katharine, during his absence, in answer to his. In these 
letters anxiety for her husband's safety often breaks through 
the queenly desire that he should distinguish himself. 

On the 1 2th of August, the Emperor Maximilian joined 
Henry as a paid ally, receiving one hundred crowns a day, and 
wearing the cross of St. George. Katharine refers to this cir- 
cumstance in one of her letters to Wolsey, wherein she writes : 
"I think, with the company of the emperor, and with his good 
counsel, his grace shall not adventure himself too much, as I 
was afraid of before. I was very glad to hear of the meeting 
of them both, which hath been to my seeming the greatest 
honor to the king that ever came to a prince." The battle, 
facetiously named by the defeated "La Joiirnee des Eperons," 
was won on the 16th of August; and on the 24th Henry and 
Maximilian entered the town of Therouene, and were present 
at a solemn Te Deum offered up for the easy victory. But^ 
while Henry was carrying on the war abroad, Katharine was no 
less anxiously occupied at home in repelling the aggressions 
of the Scots, who, emboldened by the absence of the king, had 
invaded England. The victories of Nevill's Cross and Flodden 
Field were achieved during her regency; and the letter from 
her to Henrv announcing the last, contains many touches of 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 255 

affection, that prove the feelings of the victorious queen were 
almost forgotten in those of the loving wife. 

Henry returned to England at the close of October, and his 
meeting with Katharine was marked by great affection on 
both sides. 

In August, 1 5 14, the contract between the Princess Mary, 
sister of.Henry, and Louis the Twelfth of France, being signed, 
on September 14, the ceremony of contraction took place at the 
church of the Celestines in Paris ; on hearing which, Henry, 
accompanied by his queen and a numerous train of nobility, con- 
ducted the Princess Mary to Dover, and having consigned her 
to the care of the Duke of Norfolk, saw her depart for Bou- 
logne, where she was met by the French nobles deputed by 
Louis the Twelfth to attend her to Abbeville. 

Gratified by this marriage, and free from troubles at home 
and abroad, Henry indulged his taste for pleasure by a series of 
courtly fetes, which were however interrupted by the accouche- 
ment of the queen, who again gave birth to a son in November, 
15 14, who unfortunately lived but a few days. The festival 
of the new year was marked by a splendid pageant, in which 
Henry himself bore a conspicuous part. It consisted of a 
masque, in which the king and three nobles of his court, with 
four ladies magnificently attired, danced in the queen's presence, 
and removed not their masques until the dance was finished, 
when Katharine, recognizing the king, rewarded him for the 
agreeable surprise he had occasioned her by a kiss. 

The death of Louis the Twelfth, a few months after his ill- 
assorted marriage, left his queen at liberty to contract a union 
more suitable to her age and taste. Her choice fell on the ob- 
ject of her former love, the Duke of Suffolk, who had been sent 
to France by Henry as the bearer of a letter of condolence to 
the widowed queen, and whom she privately married with an 
indecent precipitancy that somewhat shocked the French court. 
Mary and Suffolk returned to England in the latter end of 
April, and were publicly married on the 13th of May at Green- 
wich, Henry and Katharine treating them with great kindness 
and affection, and celebrating their nuptials by a romantic fete, 
in which Robin Hood and his merry men were personated by 
the archers of the royal guard, who invited the king and the two 
queens, and their court, to a repast spread in a thicket near 
Shooter's Hill. 

TbQ. troubles of Scotland brought Queen Margaret of that 



256 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

kingdom a visitor to the court of her brother in 15 17, where she 
was affectionately received by the king and queen, and once 
more found herself beneath the same roof with her sister Mary, 
the queen-dowager of France. The meeting between Margaret 
and Katharine must have reminded both of the death of the 
King of Scotland, the husband of one, and the brother-in-law 
of the other, had not Margaret found consolation in her mar- 
riage with the Earl of Angus, contracted too soon after the 
death of her royal spouse to admit a belief being entertained 
of her having felt any real grief for that tragical event. Mar- 
garet brought with her her infant daughter by the Earl of 
Angus, the Lady Margaret Douglas, who shared the nursery 
with her cousin, the Princess Mary, only a few months her 
junior. Both remained a year at the English court, at the ex- 
piration of which time a treaty with the Duke of Albany, who 
had replaced her as Regent of Scotland, enabled her to return 
thither. Margaret appears to have had as little control over 
her passions as her brother, Henry the Eighth, afterwards 
evinced over his ; for, having discovered that her husband, the 
Earl of Angus, had been unfaithful to her during her absence, 
she met him with undissembled anger and disdain, and an- 
nounced her intention of suing for a divorce from him. Prev- 
iously to the Queen of Scotland leaving the court of Henry, 
a riot of a grave character occurred in London, which furnished 
Katharine with an opportunity of displaying that clemency and 
good-feeling towards the subjects of her husband in which she 
was never found deficient. Some citizens and apprentices, ag- 
grieved by the patronage bestowed on foreign artisans, to the 
detriment of their own profit, and incited to commotion by the 
seditious sermons of a Doctor Bele and the persuasions of John 
Lincoln, a broker, seized on the pretext of some offense offered 
to them by the foreign artisans, to pillage houses, break open 
prisons, and injure and maim several strangers. Many lives 
were lost in the fray, and it was deemed expedient to punish 
with severity those who were arrested in it. No less than two 
hundred and seventy-eight persons were made prisoners, many 
of them mere youths, whose mothers and sisters sought the 
palace, and with loud cries and floods of tears implored the 
pity of Katharine, who, touched with compassion, presented 
herself, accompanied by the Dowager Queen of France and 
her sister Margaret of Scotland, before Henry, and besought 
pardon for the youthful insurgents. This appeal had more 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 257 

effect on the king than that made by the recorder and aldermen, 
who came in mourning to the court to plead in favor of the 
guilty. Nevertheless, he only accorded them pardon when, 
sitting at Westminster Hall, and surrounded by his principal 
nobility and officers, the culprits came before him in white 
shirts, and with halters about their necks, and did on their knees 
crave mercy. Still, no less than fourteen— and these were the 
ringleaders, among whom was Lincoln — were executed, a proof 
that Henry already began to reveal the sanguinary nature he 
afterwards displayed. The terrible malady known by the name 
of Sudor Anglicus appeared in 1517, and was of so malignant 
a character as to cause death in three hours. Many persons 
of note died of this disease, while it fell so heavily on the lower 
class as to depopulate not only villages, but in some places 
towns. Henry left London, and, adjourning three terms, re- 
moved Trinity term, in 15 18, to Oxford, whence it was ad- 
journed to Westminster. 

In this year, urged on by political motives, Francis the First, 
of France, proposed a treaty with Henry, one of the conditions 
of which was to be the marriage of his son, the dauphm, and 
the Princess Mary, only then in her second year, and the 
dauphin in his first. This treaty, proposed in September, 15 18, 
was concluded in October following ; and on the 16th of Decem- 
ber, the King and Oueen of France, acting on behalf of their 
son, and the Earl of Worcester on the part of the Princess 
Mary, the children were solemnly affianced. 

The influence of Wolsey with Henry the Eighth had so 
greatly increased, that the sovereigns who wished to stand well 
with England found it their interest to conciliate this proud 
and selfish upstart by administering to his vanity. He was 
alternately bribed by Francis the First and Charles the Fifth, 
whenever they deemed it expedient, either by using their medi- 
ation with Leo the Tenth to forward Wolsey 's ambitious views, 
or by costly gifts. They condescended to flatter him as well as 
to serve his projects. In their letters they extravagantly 
lauded him for qualities which he did not possess, while they 
greatly exaggerated those to which he laid claim, and even 
addressed him as their "friend," their "father." Vain of these 
proofs of the high consideration in which he was held by two 
such powerful monarchs, Wolsey, now archbishop of York, 
omitted not to make Henry aware of it ; and Henry, no less 
vainglorious, received these proofs of the favor shown to 



258 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Wolsey as homage offered to his own dignity and power, as 
well as of the vast superiority of his favorite. Wolsey had 
now reached almost the last step of the ladder of fortune. 
First minister, prime favorite, grand chancellor, archbishop 
of York, cardinal, sole legate (Campeggio, his colleague in that 
dignity, having been recalled to Rome), wealth, and power 
which enabled him to amass it abroad as well as at home, he 
might surely have been satisfied with the splendor of his lot. 
In 15 19, an eclat ant proof of the desire of Francis the First 
to testify his esteem for Henry was given by that monarch 
requesting him to stand godfather to his second son, Henry, 
afterwards king of France — a request not only proving his 
esteem, but likewise illustrative of the high position held by 
Henry the Eighth at that period in Europe, the friendship of 
sovereigns being then, as now, dependent on their prosperity 
and the influence they exercised in political affairs. To Wolsey 
did Francis confide the whole arrangement of the ceremonial 
of the interview to be held between him and Henry at Ardres 
— a flattering proof of his confidence in Wolsey, as great im- 
portance was attached to all the details of the etiquette and 
precedence to be maintained in such meetings. In consequence 
of this privilege, Wolsey, on the 12th of May, 1520, drew up 
the regulation or programme of the interview, which it was de- 
cided should take place on the 4th of June following, between 
Ardres and Guisnes ; that the King of England should advance 
towards Ardres, as far as was convenient to him, but without 
quitting that portion of his own territory still held in France, 
and that the King of France should advance to meet him where 
he stopped. By this arrangement Wolsey managed that the 
first visit should be paid by Francis to Henry, assigning for a 
reason, that, as Henry crossed the sea expressly to see Francis, 
the latter could do no less than pass his own territory to meet 
Henry. The royal party consisted of the kings and queens of 
England and France, Mary, queen-dowager of France, and 
Louise of Savoy, Duchess of Angouleme, mother to Francis. 
Each sovereign was to be attended by a princely train, and no 
expense was to be spared on either side to render the pageant 
splendid, both monarchs having a decided taste for magnifi- 
cence. While these arrangements were forming, Wolsey was 
secretly carrying on a correspondence with Charles the Fifth, 
who, having discovered his ambition and rapacity, administered 
to both, as being the best mode of securing his influence with his 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 259 

master ; and when Henry, on the 25th of May, reached Canter- 
bury, on his route to embark for Calais, great was his surprise 
when he received intelligence of the arrival of Charles the 
Fifth at Dover ; although it was strongly suspected that this 
visit was concerted between the emperor and Wolsey, and con- 
sequently did not surprise the latter, however he might affect 
ignorance of it. The cardinal immediately offered to proceed 
to Dover to receive Charles, and to announce the visit of Henry 
for the next day, by which means an opportunity was afforded 
Wolsey of a private conference with Charles. From Dover 
Henry conducted the emperor back to Canterbury, to see the 
queen, who was delighted to meet her nephew for the first 
time. Charles, who had been kept au fait of the intended in- 
terview between Francis the First and Henry by the cardinal, 
came expressly to use his influence to prevent it ; but this being 
impossible, Henry having engaged his honor for the meeting, 
it was generally thought that the emperor took that opportunity 
of securing the good offices of Wolsey, by promising him all his 
interest for the elevation of the cardinal to the pontifical throne 
in case of the death of Leo the Tenth. Charles embarked for 
Flanders on the 30th of May, after having obtained a promise 
from Henry that he would enter into no engagement with 
Francis the' First that could be prejudicial to the emperor, and 
also that Henry would pay a visit to Charles at Gravelines 
before he returned to England. The splendor of the Field of 
the Cloth of Gold, with its fetes, tournaments, masques, and 
balls, has been so often described, that we will pass over it, 
briefly stating, that business was not lost sight of in a meeting 
supposed to be devoted to pleasure ; for the project of the mar- 
riage of the Princess Mary with the dauphin was again revived, 
and other conditions on various points arranged. Little did 
Queen Katharine dream that Anne Boleyn, who was present on 
this memorable occasion, was one day to rival her in the affec- 
tions of Henry, and to take her place on the throne. Nor did 
Henry notice his fair subject who was soon to kindle such a 
flame in his heart. On the 24th of June the sovereigns parted, 
after having spent three weeks together in a round of amuse- 
ments, in which each vied with the other in the display of 
gorgeous splendor. Henry and Katharine proceeded to Grave- 
lines on the 10th of July, but returned the same night to Calais, 
where, the next day, the emperor and his aunt Marguerite, the 
governtss of the Low Country, joined them, and spent three 



260 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

days- in their society, which occasioned no little dissatisfaction 
to Francis the First when he heard it, his great object being to 
keep these monarchs as much asunder as possible. 

Katharine had for some time marked the great influence the 
cardinal had acquired over her husband, and being a woman 
of quick perception, strongly suspected it was often exercised 
more for his own personal aggrandizement than for the glory 
or honor of Henry. The ostentatious display of his wealth, his 
undisguised assumption of power, and the princely splendor 
which Wolsey delighted to exhibit, had alienated from him the 
esteem and good-will of the queen. The cardinal was not slow 
to perceive nor to resent, as far as- he dared, the change in 
Katharine's behavior to him ; and this resentment laid the 
foundation of that dislike to her, which afterwards proved so 
prejudicial to her interests. Wolsey knew that hitherto the 
queen possessed considerable influence over her husband, who, 
less quick-sighted with regard to the character of the wily 
cardinal, might one day be enlightened on this point by her. 
Wolsey therefore feared, as much as he disliked, the queen ; 
and when Henry's passion for her, sated by many years of 
marriage, led him to seek a separation from her, he found in 
this unholy prelate a ready instrument to work out his desire, 
instead of a moral and religious Mentor to dissuade him from 
a measure so fraught with mischief to his kingdom and dishonor 
to his name. 

The stately gravity of Katharine, unfitting her from taking 
any part in the coarse pleasures of her husband, seemed to him 
a tacit reproach for his too great indulgence in them. She 
could not galop by his side in the field sports in which he de- 
lighted, nor dress up in the fantastic masqueradings in which 
he was wont to exhibit himself before his subjects. Dignified 
and thoughtful, Katharine, who had been nobly educated by 
her mother the great Isabella, loved study, and evinced a de- 
cided preference for the society of the wise and good. These 
characteristics, peculiar to her country and education, made her 
appear much older in the eyes of her husband than she really 
was ; and with only five years' difference in their age, Henry's 
boyish tastes and pursuits were so long continued, that he fan- 
cied himself many years younger than Katharine. She had 
more than the ordinary steadiness and stateliness of a woman 
of her age. Her dress, too, rich and queenlike as it was, while 
it added to the imposing grandeur of her aspect, also made her 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 261 

look less youthful, so that even ere Time had robbed her of those 
personal attractions in which her contemporaries declared her 
not to be deficient, Henry considered her past the age for 
having a right to the affection and fidelity which he had sworn 
to her at the altar. But though Katharine took no part in the 
amusements of Henry, she offered no objections to his indul- 
gence of them, nor evinced any symptoms of jealousy until he 
drew attention by his too evident admiration of Mary Boleyn, 
the elder sister of Anne, who was afterwards to win his fickle 
heart. Although deeply wounded, Katharine conducted herself 
with a calm dignity that enabled her to avoid all slander, and 
which probably prevented Henry from pursuing his flirtation 
any further; for Mary Boleyn married, in July, 1521, William 
Carey, a descendant of the Beauforts, and not remotely allied 
to the king himself, but destitute of fortune, which latter cir- 
cumstance incurred the deep displeasure of her father at the 
marriage. The jealousy of Katharine was again excited, four 
years later, when Henry created Henry Fitzroy, his natural son 
by Lady Talbois, duke of Richmond and Somerset, grand ad- 
miral of England, and invested him with the order of the 
Garter. To confer such distinction on a mere child was a man- 
ifestation of a want of respect to the queen's feeling that greatly 
pained her. It also proved that he no longer hoped for a son 
by her, and this was very galling to Katharine. 

In May, 1522, Henry joined the Emperor Charles against 
France. Regardless of the contract that affianced his daughter 
Mary to the French dauphin he offered her to the King of Scot- 
land as if no previous engagement existed. 

The war with France caused the return of Anne Boleyn to 
England, where soon after she was appointed maid of honor to 
Katharine, an event fraught with misery to the queen ; for, 
although some historians have asserted that Henry had resolved 
on seeking a divorce from Katharine previously to his passion 
for Anne Boleyn, there can be little doubt that his eagerness 
to obtain it was greatly increased by his desire to wed her, how- 
ever he might urge his conscientious scruples as an excuse for 
it. Charles the Fifth had incurred the enmity of Wolsey by 
not having urged his influence for that cardinal's election to 
the papal throne, and the queen had offended the proud prelate 
by her disapproval of his ostentation and vanity. Wolsey had 
marked the growing indifference of his master towards Kath- 
arine — an indifference of which she was too deeply sensible 



262 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

not to be rendered very unhappy by it. The effect it produced 
on her health and spirits, by imparing her personal attractions, 
and increasing her habitual gravity into a fixed melancholy, 
served to make her still less pleasing to Henry, who disliked 
her the more for the change in her produced by his own unkind- 
ness. He pretended to entertain scruples on the subject of 
their marriage, revealed these scruples to his confessor, and 
made them the excuse for gradually alienating himself from the 
society of the queen. There remains little doubt that Wolsey 
at first encouraged the king to divorce Katharine. He was 
prompted to do this, not only by his desire to gratify Henry, 
but to avenge himself on the queen and her nephew, the em- 
peror, for the real or imaginary slights he had received from 
them ; he also wished that Henry should wed the Duchess 
d'Alencon, whose portrait he had procured to show him. Al- 
though Henry had meditated the divorce for some time, it was 
not until the close of the year 1526 that the queen became aware 
of his intention. When she heard of it, she dispatched a confi- 
dential agent to Spain, to convey the sad news fo her nephew ; 
but Wolsey took care that he never reached his destined course, 
by having him stopped on the road. 

The defeat of Francis the First at Pavia, and his consequent 
imprisonment in Spain, had excited something like a generous 
sentiment in the breast of Henry, and led to his using his in- 
terest in his behalf. Dissatisfied with the conduct of Charles 
the Fifth, whom he disliked and envied, he wished to assist in 
securing the liberty of the French king ; and the good feeling, 
prompted more by ill-will to Charles than friendship for Francis, 
so far conciliated the latter, and the regent his mother, as to 
lead to a renewal of friendly intelligence with them. Soon 
after the return of Francis to his own kingdom, and while yet 
his sons were detained as hostages by Charles, Wolsey was 
sent to France to treat for a marriage between the Princess 
Mary and Francis, or his son, the Duke of Orleans. The 
cardinal arrived at Calais with an equipage of nearly one thou- 
sand men on the nth of July, 1527, and was met at Boulogne 
by Byron with no less a train. After him came the Cardinal of 
Lorraine, sent by the French king to do Wolsey honor, and to 
be the bearer of a letter from Francis, containing the assurance 
that himself and Madame Louisa, his mother, would meet him 
at Amiens ; which assurance was fulfilled on the 4th of August, 
when the king and his mother, royally attended, met him a mile 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 263 

and a half out of the town, and conducted him, with every mark 
of respect that could be shown to a sovereign, to his lodgings. 
The cardinal accompanied Francis to Compiegne, where a 
treaty was made by which the Princess Mary was to marry the 
Duke of Orleans, and Francis was to wed Leonora, the sister 
of Charles ; and the pope, then kept a prisoner in the castle of 
St. Angelo, should be set free by mediation or force, as soon as 
possible. While this treaty was going on, the English ambas- 
sadors in Spain were written to by Wolsey to desire that all 
rumors of a divorce between Katharine and Henry should be 
contradicted, and to assure Charles the Fifth that any such had 
only originated in an objection made by the Bishop of Tarbes, 
when he had lately been in England, concerning the legitimacy 
of the Princess Mary. This excuse had also been made to the 
privy council of Henry, when he first touched on the illegality 
of his marriage to them ; but it probably was suggested only by 
the crafty monarch himself as an excuse for seeking a divorce. 

On the 16th of September, Wolsey departed from Compiegne, 
loaded with costly gifts by Francis, who conducted him through 
the town, and a mile beyond it, accompanied by the titular 
King of Navarre, the pope's legate, and the highest of the 
French nobility. In return for this stately embassy, Francis, 
the following month, sent the grand master, Anne de Mont- 
morency, John de Belloy, Bishop of Bayonne, John Brisson, 
first president of Rouen, and Le Seigneur de Humieres, as his 
ambassadors, to ratify the treaty in England. These, with a 
noble train of no fewer than six hundred horse, were conducted 
to London on the 20th of October, and lodged in the Bishop 
of London's palace. On the 10th of November they were en- 
tertained by the king at Greenwich with a feast, said by Belloy 
to be the most sumptuous he had ever seen, and followed by a 
comedy, in which the Princess Mary took a part. On the same 
day Henry received, by the hand of Montmorency, the order 
of St. Michael, and Francis, in Paris, that of the Garter, sent 
over to him by three knights of that order, with Sir Thomas 
Wriothesley, "garter herauld." 

In 1528, Charles the Fifth first intimated to Henry his knowl- 
edge and disapproval of the intended divorce. This intimation 
was given in the answer sent by Clarencieux king-of-arms, who 
had accompanied Guyenne, king-of-arms, to Burgos, on the 
22d of January, 1528, to declare war on the parts of Henry and 
Francis against Spain, unless certain conditions were complied 



264 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

with. "It being possible," said Charles, "that I have more just 
occasion to make war against the king your master than he 
hath -against me, especially if it be true (which is said in Eng- 
land, France, and other parts) that your king will be divorced 
from the queen his wife, and marry with another (notwith- 
standing the dispensations granted on that behalf). Since, 
besides all other injuries done herein, it will be made manifest 
his intention was to make the lady (he pretended to give me in 
marriage) a bastard." Then followed a severe censure on 
Cardinal Wolsey, whose ambition and covetousness Charles the 
Fifth exposed in no measured terms, and whom he blamed for 
all. How heavily must this have fallen on the heart of Kath- 
arine, tortured as she was by all the pangs of jealousy at wit- 
nessing Henry's unconcealed passion for her rival, Anne Boleyn, 
to whom the courtiers now paid that homage which they had 
before laid at her feet. In vain did Katharine endeavor to win 
back the truant heart of her cruel husband, by affecting a cheer- 
fulness that was foreign to her character. The attempt was 
utterly unsuccessful ; and the natural gaiety and coquetry of 
Anne, increased by her long residence in the court of France, 
formed a dangerous contrast to the staid and matronly decorum 
of the unhappy queen. But, though tortured by jealousy, Kath- 
arine maintained her dignity, by forbearing to reproach or mark 
her disapprobation of Anne Boleyn. On one occasion only 
did she betray her knowledge of the position of Anne, when 
the latter, playing at cards, hesitated a moment about playing 
a king. "My Lady Anne," said the queen, "you have the good 
luck to stop at a king; but you are like others, you will have 
all or none." 

Henry used his utmost dissimulation towards the queen, 
while urging on the divorce by every means in his power. He 
tried to make her believe for some time, that he only agitated 
the question of the validity of his marriage with her in order 
to silence forever all doubts of the legitimacy of their daughter, 
the Princess Mary. But when she discovered that he was really 
bent on obtaining a divorce, she openly declared her determina- 
tion of opposing it. Henry had privately sent William Wright, 
doctor of law, to Rome, to negotiate for the divorce ; but the 
pope being then a prisoner, and whollv in the power of Charles 
the Fifth, offered a great obstacle to the wish of Henry. In 
this state of affairs, Henry demanded whether Katharine could 
not be persuaded to become a nun ; and whether if he, in order to 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 265 

impose on her, took the vows of a monk, could not afterwards 
have a dispensation from the said vows from the pope, so as to 
be able to contract a second marriage ; nay more, whether he 
might not be the husband of two living wives ? to such lengths 
did his crafty mind and crooked policy carry him. Many were 
the hours which he devoted to the pages of Thomas Aquinas, 
in order to discover how far the Levitical laws could be turned 
to his advantage ; and he was not a little pleased when he found 
in them that the dispensation from the pope for his marriage 
with Katharine could not hold valid against the right divine, 
by the reason that for dispensing with a law it is necessary 
that he who does so should be superior to him who made it. 
This decision of Henry's favorite theologian encouraged all 
his hopes, and he addressed himself to the Archbishop War- 
ham, who had formerly declared against the legality of the 
marriage with Katharine, to consult the bishops of England 
on the point. The writings of Luther had even then, lately 
as they had appeared, considerably lessened in England the 
general opinion of the papal power ; and as the validity of 
Henry's marriage rested solely on the dispensation for it ac- 
corded by Julius the Second, people hitherto devoted to the court 
of Rome now openly disputed whether a marriage wholly con- 
trary to the law of God could be permitted by His vicegerent on 
earth. The result of the appeal to the bishops was a paper 
signed by the whole bench, in which they declared that the 
marriage was contrary to divine law and public morals. Fisher, 
bishop of Rochester, alone refused to sign this paper ; but it is 
asserted that Archbishop Warham, unknown to him, put his 
name to it. 

The only opposition to the divorce anticipated by Henry was 
that of Charles the Fifth, and this he determined to brave. 
The imprisonment of the pope, who could look only to the 
kings of France and England, now united, for aid, strengthened 
his hopes ; but his strongest claim for the divorce, namely, that 
the dispensation granted by Julius the Second for the marriage 
with Katharine was contrary to divine laws, could hardly be 
urged to another pope, each papal sovereign wishing to main- 
tain the inviolability of the power and acts of his predecessor, 
and the impossibility of his committing an error. In this 
dilemma the only expedient that offered was to prove that the 
bull of Julius the Second -was rendered null by that pontiff's 
having been surprised into granting it, which made it revocable 



266 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

even according to the opinion of the court of Rome, the hull 
having been granted at the joint prayer of Henry and Kath- 
arine, on the plea that their marriage was necessary for the, 
preservation of the peace between England and Spain. In 
this plea two causes for nullifying the bull were found : the 
first, that Henry, being only twelve years old when it was 
prayed for, could not be supposed to comprehend the policy 
which dictated such a measure, and consequently that the prayer 
had not come from him ; and the second, that the state of affairs 
between England and Spain, when the prayer was made, did 
not render such a marriage necessary for the maintenance of 
peace between them ; and that hence Julius the Second had been 
deceived in granting the bull. Another cause of its nullity was 
discovered in the fact, that the bull being issued for the main- 
tenance of peace between Henry the Seventh and Isabella of 
Spain, this motive ceased when the marriage had been con- 
summated, both these sovereigns being dead. It was alleged 
that the protestation of Henry against the marriage, after the 
bull had been granted, and previously to its consummation, ren- 
dered the bull accorded by Julius the Second null, and made 
it necessary to have another bull granted to render the marriage 
valid. Such were the pleas urged by Henry to induce the pope 
to revoke the dispensation given by Julius ; and had conscien- 
tious scruples alone influenced Henry in praying for this meas- 
ure, a new bull from the pope might have been obtained to ease 
his conscience by rendering valid the marriage. Building on 
the painful position of the pope at that crisis to obtain what 
he required, Henry dispatched Knight to Rome, to solicit 
Clement the Seventh to sign no less than four separate docu- 
ments drawn up in England : the first, a commission to Wolsey, 
to judge and decide the affair, with so many English bishops ; 
the second, to grant a bull for declaring the king's marriage 
null, on account that Katharine's marriage with Prince Arthur 
was alleged to have been consummated, although she swore 
to the contrarv ; the third, for the pope to grant a dispensation 
to Henrv to marry another woman ; and the fourth, an engage- 
ment on' the part of the pope never to revoke any one of the acts 
now to be signed. Secretly as Henry had managed this nego- 
tiation, it had already reached the ears of the emperor, who pro- 
hibited Henry's requests being attended to ; and the result was, 
that the pope, wishing to conciliate Henry, and Francis, who 
espoused Henry's side for the divorce, determined on concili- 
ating both sovereigns, in order to play them off against Charles 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 267 

the Fifth without however satisfying them, and hence pur- 
sued the most disingenious conduct to all parties. While a 
prisoner, and strictly guarded' by a Spanish captain, Knight 
could not have an audience with Clement the Seventh; he 
nevertheless found means to inform him of the wishes of Henry, 
and when, shortly after, the pope escaped from prison to 
Orvieto, Knight joined him there, and delivered to him a letter 
from Cardinal Wolsey, strongly urging him to grant the 
divorce. The pope promised to do all that he could, but ad- 
vised that nothing should be hurried — in fact, he wished to 
gain time for the accomplishment of his own ends ; but Knight, 
knowing the king's impatience, pressed Clement so vigorously, 
that he at length pledged himself to sign the acts demanded, 
on condition that no use should be made of them until the 
French and Germans had vacated Italy. Knight accepted this 
condition, thinking that, when once these acts were signed 
and in the possession of Henry he could use them when he 
pleased ; but the pope was not to be imposed on, and, pretending 
to desire nothing so much as to satisfy the King of England, he 
employed all the address and cunning in which he was a profi- 
cient to prolong the affair. Various were the expedients used by 
Clement to deceive Knight and Gregory Cassali, now joined 
with him, and to delay accordingly the acts required by Henry ; 
among others he declared that before signing them he wished to 
consult the cardinal of the four crowned saints. Knight and 
Cassali believed that all now required was to secure the favor 
of this cardinal, and, amply supplied with gold, they were not 
sparing of it. The cardinal having examined the acts, declared 
that they contained many errors, and proposed to draw up 
new ones. This took time ; and when these new acts were taken 
to the pope for his signature, he announced that he could not 
grant them until he had informed the emperor of it, or unless, 
to explain such a breach of promise, General Lautrec was made 
to advance on Orvieto, and to demand on the part of the King 
of France that the signature should be given for his ally the 
King of England. As this measure would occupy a consider- 
able time, it was rejected by the English emissaries ; and their 
object being to finish the affair before the emperor could be 
informed of it, they became so importunate with the pope, that 
he at length accorded them the commission for Cardinal 
Wolsey, with the bull of dispensation for the king, and prom- 
ised to send to England the other bull for breaking the mar- 



268 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

riage. But now, when Knight and Cassali imagined that they 
had succeeded in carrying the points they had sought, Clement, 
by an act of cunning for which they were wholly unprepared, 
had duped them. He had dated the two acts from his prison, 
although they were signed some time after he had left it ; 
hence Henry could not make use of them, knowing that it 
would be thought that the pope only granted them under con- 
straint, and in the hope of recovering his liberty through the 
aid of England. Henry also knew that all acts signed by a 
prisoner were considered null, of which Francis the First had 
given a proof by his breach of the treaty he had not long before 
signed at Madrid. Thus Henry ♦found himself defeated, not- 
withstanding all the efforts he made to obtain his liberty to wed 
Anne Boleyn. 

Under no other pope could Henry have experienced the same 
difficulty in what he sought, and found the same disingenuous- 
ness as in Clement the Seventh — and from two causes : the first 
was, that the pope being illegitimate, he always dreaded lest the 
exposure of this fact should hurl him from the papal throne, 
to the possession of which illegitimacy was a bar ; and the 
second was, that the object nearest his heart was to re-establish 
the house of Medici, of which he was an illegitimate branch, 
in the government of Florence, for the fulfillment of which 
project he counted on the assistance of the emperor. Thus, 
while he avoided openly declaring for Charles the Fifth, 
while a powerful army was on the point of invading Naples, 
he wished to preserve terms with him, as well as with the 
kings of England and France, until the result of the wars should 
enable him to judge which side it would be the most profitable 
for him to declare for. 

The war declared by Henry and Francis against the emperor 
had not turned the thoughts of the former from the divorce. 
It still occupied him, and even were he disposed to forget it, 
the position in which Anne Boleyn found herself ever since the 
subject had been made public, was too painful to a woman am- 
bitious to ascend a throne, and desirous to vindicate her honor 
by a marriage with him by whom it had been compromised, to 
permit her to relax her efforts to urge Henry to procure the 
divorce. He pressed the pope, through Gregory Cassali, the 
English agent at Rome, to grant other bulls instead of those 
objectionable ones formerly accorded, but Cassali pressed 
Clement the Seventh in vain. All he could obtain from the wily 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 269 

pontiff was, the advice that Henry should break his marriage 
in virtue of the commission granted to the legate, but with as 
little noise as possible, and then to wed immediately the woman 
he preferred ; adding that it would be much easier to accord 
Henry a bull of confirmation for what he had done, than to 
grant him one to permit him to do it. This advice excited the 
suspicion of Henry. To break his marriage without publicity 
he knew would be impossible, as the queen must be heard in 
her defense, otherwise the judgment would be deemed null. 
After much deliberation Henry sent Gardiner and Fox to Rome, 
once more to solicit new bulls. A commission to Wolsey was 
prayed for, to enable him to judge the cause and have power 
to break the marriage; but, nevertheless, that the Princess 
Mary, the sole offspring of it, should be declared legitimate — 
a proof that Henry had not then become wholly indifferent to 
his daughter, or that he wished to conciliate the emperor by not 
having her legitimacy impeached. These emissaries were 
charged to assure the pope that Wolsey had never advised the 
king to the divorce, and also to inform Clement of the extraor- 
dinary merit of the lady whom Henry meant to wed. But 
Clement was by no means disposed to accord what was de- 
manded until the war. in Italy should be decided. He prevari- 
cated, postponed, and gained time, by every possible pretext, 
until Henry losing all patience, the pope at length, on the 13th 
of April, 1528, signed a bull appointing Wolsey judge in the 
affair, and naming the Archbishop of Canterbury, or any other 
bishop in England he preferred to act with him, and to be in- 
vested with all the powers that Henrv would desire. This bull 
was, however, far from satisfying Henry, for it contained no 
clause to prevent its revocation whenever Clement might think 
fit ; and the next objection was, that Wolsey being prime min- 
ister, and known to be wholly devoted to the king, would be 
considered a partial judge. Therefore, Henry demanded to 
have another legate appointed to act with Wolsey, and a positive 
engagement signed by the pope, that the commission would not 
be revoked. The success of Lautrec in Italy alone secured the 
pope's assent to this request, but he nevertheless arranged that 
his compliance with Henry's prayer should not have the effect 
of expediting the affair in question. He named in the bull ac- 
corded the 6th of June, 1528, at Orvieto, Wolsey and Cardinal 
Campeggio, bishop of Salisbury, his legates, giving them the 
same power previously granted to Wolsey, appointing them his 



270 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

viceregents for the divorce, and gave them his full authority 
to act in the affair. On the 23d of July he gave the engagement 
requested by Henry, placed in the hands of Campeggio the 
decree breaking the marriage, and now all seemed in a fair 
way of satisfying Henry. But the decree, though signed the 
23d of July, was not sent to England until late in August ; and 
Campeggio did not commence his journey there until after 
the affairs in Italy wore a different aspect, and left the pope 
nothing to fear from France, but much to hope from the em- 
peror. Consequently, it no longer suited Clement to offend the 
emperor by having granted the divorce, nor yet to incur the 
anger of Henry by openly nullifying what he had already al- 
lowed. He commanded his legate to prolong the affair in Eng- 
land as much as possible, not on any account to pronounce the 
sentence of divorce until he had received an express order from 
his own hand, and not to permit the bull to be seen by any one 
but the king and Wolsey, and never to let it out of his own 
possession. Campeggio did not arrive in England until Octo- 
ber, seven months after he was named legate; and before he 
reached it a new and unexpected obstacle had opposed itself to 
the divorce, in a brief confirming the bull for the dispensation 
granted for the marriage of Henry and Katharine by Julius 
the Second, and said to have been discovered by the ministers 
of the emperor at Rome. Although this brief bore incontestable 
proofs of its being a forgery, it nevertheless was a new diffi- 
culty in the way of the king's wishes. Nor did the conduct of 
Campeggio on his arrival tend to satisfy those who had counted 
so much on it. He solemnly exhorted the king to live on good 
terms with his queen, when Henry expected that he would 
separate them for ever; but, on the other hand, he advised 
Katharine to yield submission to the will of the king, for that 
it would be vain to oppose it. Thus the legate satisfied neither 
the king nor the queen, and was answered by Katharine, that 
she should never cease to consider herself the wife. of the king 
until separated from him by a sentence of divorce by the pope. 
On this Campeggio declared that he could take no further step 
without fresh instructions from the pope ; and to receive these, 
six months more were wasted, during 1- which time he pacified 
Henry by showing him and Wolsey the bull, but refused to 
allow any of the privy council to see it, though much pressed by 
the king to do so. 

Campeggio arrived in England in October ; and on the 8th 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 271 

of November he and Wolsey had an interview with Katharine, 
to announce that they were about to hold a court of inquiry 
as to the validity of her marriage. On this occasion the queen 
spoke to Wosley in the following cutting words : "For this 
trouble I may thank you, my lord of York, because I ever 
wondered at your pride and vainglory, abhorred your voluptu- 
ous life, and little cared for your presumption and tyranny ; 
and, therefore, of malice you have kindled this fire ; especially 
for the great grudge you bear to my nephew, the emperor, 
whom you hate worse than a scorpion, because he could not 
gratify your ambition by making you pope by force. And, 
therefore, have you said, more than once, you could humble him 
and his friends, and you have kept true this promise ; for of 
all his wars and vexations he may only thank you. As for me, 
his poor aunt and kinswoman, what trouble you put me to 
by this new-found doubt, God knoweth, to whom I commit my 
cause.'' It was not, however, until May, that Campeggio took 
any effective step in the business he had come to arrange, and 
Henry's impatience increasing in proportion to the delays 
offered by. the pope, he determined on having the judgment at 
once commenced by the legates. 

The commission was read on the 31st of May, but the citation 
to the king and queen was only issued for the 18th of June, 
1529, — another proof of the unwillingness of the pope to con- 
clude the affair, and of the obedience of Campeggio to his 
master's wishes. When the king and queen appeared before 
Campeggio and Wolsey, Henry, when called, replied, "Here 
I am ;" but the queen, rising with great dignity from her seat, 
took no notice of the legates, but approaching Henry, knelt be- 
fore him, and said, "That being a poor woman and a stranger 
in his kingdom, .where she could hope neither for good advice 
nor impartial judges in her emergency, she begged to know in 
what she had offended him ? That she had been twenty years his 
wife, had borne him three children, and had ever studied to 
please him. She appealed to his conscience whether she had not 
come to him a virgin, and declared that, had she been capable of 
anything criminal, she would consent to be turned away with 
ignominy. Their mutual parents," she asserted, "had been wis? 
and prudent princes, had good and learned men for their ad- 
visers, when her marriage with the king had been arranged. 
That, therefore, she would not acknowledge the court before 
which she then appeared; for her advocates, being the subjects 



2-J2 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

of the king, and named by him, could not properly defend her 
right." Having thus said, she arose from her knees, made a 
deep courtesy to the king, and, without noticing the legates, 
withdrew. 

"Madam," said Griffiths, her receiver-general, on whose arm 
she leant, "you are called back" (for the crier made the hall 
ring with the summons) ; "Katharine, queen of England, come 
again into court!" The queen replied to Griffiths, "I hear it 
well enough ; but, on — on— go you on ; for this is no court 
wherein I can have justice; proceed, therefore." 

When she had retired, Henry declared that "he had always 
been well satisfied with the queen, and that in desiring to sep- 
arate from her he was actuated solely by motives of religion 
and conscience. He added, that the scruples he entertained had 
been suggested by those of the Bishop of Tarbes, and had been 
confirmed by all the bishops of England." The Archbishop of 
Canterbury confirmed this statement relative to the bishops ; 
but Fisher* bishop of Rochester, with a courage that did him 
honor, stood forth and denied having- signed the paper pre- 
sented to the king — a denial which cost him his life. 

The queen was again cited to appear on the 25th of June; 
but she did not attend, and sent an appeal to the legates against 
all their proceedings. She was therefore declared contumacious. 
While this matter was proceeding, the emperor was using all his 
endeavors to induce the pope to remove the case to Rome, and 
menacing to depose him, on the plea of his illegitimacy, unless, 
he complied with his wishes. The conclusion of the treaty 
between Charles the Fifth and Clement the Seventh, whereby 
the emperor bound himself to re-establish the house of Medici 
at Florence, to restore Ravenna and Servia to Clement, and to 
give him possession of Modena and Reggio, vanquished the 
fears and scruples of the wily pontiff; and in July, 1529, 
Clement announced to the English ambassadors at Rome his 
determination to remove the case to that capital. On the 18th 
of July he dispatched the bull of citation to England, requiring 
the presence of the king and queen at Rome before the expira- 
tion of forty days, the said bull containing certain censures in 
case of disobedience, as unceremoniously expressed as if ap- 
plied to any simple individual instead of to a great sovereign. 
The indignation of Henry may be well imagined. To attend 
the citation would be to act contrary to the laws of England ; 
and to have the. contents of the bull made generallv known. 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 273 

would be to expose his dignity to the animadversions of his sub- 
jects. Baffled and insulted by the pope, and tormented no less 
by the firmness of Katharine to maintain her rights than by the 
impatience of Anne Boleyn to usurp them, and angered by the 
treaty between Francis the First and Charles the Fifth, Henry 
found himself in a very annoying position. Whatever respect 
he might have hitherto entertained for Katharine, had now 
ceased : the woman who opposed an obstacle to the gratification 
of his passions, could only be an object of hatred to one so 
utterly selfish as he was, and gladly would he have avenged 
his disappointed hopes on her, had he not feared to incur 
greater odium than he had yet excited. 

The delays which had occurred in the affair of the divorce 
had excited the suspicions of Anne Boleyn that Wolsey had not 
been sincere in his attempts to remove them. He had formerly 
incurred her hatred by interfering to prevent her marriage with 
Percy, afterward Earl of Northumberland, and though his 
hatred had slumbered while she believed Wolsey necessary to 
her new interests, and willing to assist in her elevation, it awoke 
afresh when the unaccountable delays to the divorce- led her to 
doubt his zeal or his truth. Nor was she wrong in her sus- 
picions. The fact was, that while Wolsey believed that Henry's 
passion for Anne Boleyn was only a light one that fruition 
would pall, and that, if free, he would wed the Duchess d'Alen- 
con, the sister of Francis the First, whose portrait he had pro- 
cured to tempt him, he was extremely desirous for the divorce 
from Katharine, whom he disliked. But when he found that 
Anne Boleyn, whose ill-will toward him he had long suspected, 
was to be queen, he wished the divorce not to be granted, though 
he dared not let it appear. It was at this period that Henry 
became acquainted with Thomas Cramner, a skillful doctor in 
theology, who being questioned as to his notion of the best 
means of procuring the divorce, replied, that it would be to 
procure the opinions in writing of all the universities in Europe, 
and of the persons the most versed in theology, on the legality 
of the marriage of Henry with Katharine ; that the result would 
be, either the universities and theologians would pronounce the 
dispensation granted by Julius the Second sufficient, or invalid, 
and that the pope would not dare to decide against the judg- 
ment of the most learned men of the time. No sooner had 
Henry heard the opinion of Cranmer, than, struck by its good 
sense, he exclaimed with his usual grossness, "At length I have 



274 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

caught the sow by the ear." He sent for Cranmer, took him 
into his especial favor, and from this event may be dated the 
commencement of that great reformation which followed. 

The dislike entertained by Anne Boleyn to Wosley had by 
degrees influenced Henry against him; and in October, 1529, 
the procurator-general having accused him of violation of the 
statue of praemunire, the king deprived him of the great seal, 
and conferred it on Sir Thomas More. Other changes followed, 
and Wosley, being declared culpable, was disgraced and com- 
manded by the king to quit the palace at York, and retire to the 
house appertaining to the bishopric of Winchester. Neverthe- 
less, after sOme time, Henry felt a return of his partiality for 
his old favorite, and restored him to the sees of York and Win- 
chester. 

By the advice of Cranmer, Henry sent learned men to France, 
Italy, Germany, and Switzerland, to consult the universities 
in these places on the divorce, and the decisions of all were 
unanimous that the dispensation granted by Julius the Second 
for the marriage of Henry and Katharine, being against the 
divine law, could not be valid. Henry now got the greatest 
men of his kingdom to address the pope in order to obtain the 
divorce. The letter was strong and fearless, and gave Clement 
to understand that they considering the king's case as their own, 
any longer delay to his wishes might endanger the pope's in- 
terests in England. This measure produced the effect of 
Clement's offering to give permission to Henry to have two 
wives — an expedient that did not at all satisfy either Henry or 
his subjects. Determined to carry his point, yet fearful that 
Clement might send a bull of excommunication against him to 
England, the king issued a proclamation, that no bulls from 
Rome that could be prejudicial to the prerogatives of the crown, 
should be henceforth received, under the most heavy penalties ; 
thus excluding, by anticipation, the censures he looked for. 
The king left no means untried to obtain Katharine's consent 
to the divorce. He sent nobles and bishops to try to persuade 
her to withdraw her appeal to the pope, or to allow the affair 
to be judged by eight persons considered qompetent. But noth- 
ing could .move her to yield to either of these proposals ; and 
Henry, furious at being defeated, separated from her on the 
14th of June, 1 53 1, having ordered her to retire to one of the 
royal residences in the country. In October, 1532, Henry and 
Francis the First encountered each other between Calais and 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 275 

Boulogne. Anne Boleyn, lately created Marchioness of Pem- 
broke, and now always with the king, accompanied him. Dur- 
ing this meeting, Francis advised Henry to marry Anne Boleyn 
without waiting for the dispensation of the pope ; an advice 
said to have been speedily adopted, as a private marriage be- 
tween Henry and Anne was alleged to have taken place at 
Calais. It was not until 1533, that the marriage of Henry and 
Anne Boleyn was declared ; this measure being rendered abso- 
lutely necessary by her pregnancy. On the 20th of May, 1533, 
Katharine was cited to appear at Dunstable, the town nearest to 
her abode ; and having refused to obey the summons, a sentence 
was pronounced by the Archbishop of Canterbury, on the 23d 
of the same month, declaring her marriage with Henry null and 
void, as being contrary to the divine law. On the 28th of the 
same month another sentence confirmed the marriage between 
Henry and Anne Boleyn; and on tne 1st of June Anne was 
crowned. 

A law was enacted depriving Katharine of the power to 
appeal, and the pope of that of punishing the contumacy of 
Henry. Katharine would, however, never resign the title of 
queen, though Henry strictly commanded that it should no 
longer be accorded her, and that she should only be recognized 
as princess-dowager and widow of Prince Arthur. The queen 
was at Greenwich when the king sent to announce his determin- 
ation on this head. She only replied, "God grant my husband a 
quiet conscience, and I mean to abide by no decision but that 
of Rome." The king, full of fury at this reply, accompanied the 
queen to Windsor, and there abruptly left her, leaving peremp- 
tory orders, that she should depart from thence before his re- 
turn. She withdrew, saying, "Go where I may, I am his wife, 
and for him I will pray." She then betook herself to More, in 
Hertfordshire. From that time she never saw again either the 
king or her child. But although the proud spirit of the injured 
Katharine quailed not under the wrongs and indignities offered 
to her, her physical force, less vigorous than her moral, gave 
way, and she sickened and drooped. She pined to behold her 
daughter again, and writhed in greater agony at knowing that 
her beloved Mary's rights were passed over in the succession 
to give way to the offspring of Anne Boleyn than she had 
done for the injuries and insults heaped on herself. Her let- 
ters to the Princess Mary at this time are no less full of tender- 
ness than of good sense. 



276 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

The angry spirit of Henry broke forth with unbridled fury 
in the case of Elizabeth Barton, a nun, called the Holy Maid 
of Kent. This poor woman, a person of weak intellect, excited 
by the general sympathy felt among the religious in England 
for Katharine, denounced the divorce and marriage of Henry 
with Anne Boleyn in the incoherent ravings of her disordered 
imagination. For this act the wretched woman was attainted of 
high treason and executed, instead of being consigned to a 
hospital ; and Sir Thomas More and Fisher, bishop of Rochester, 
incurred the hatred of Henry for being suspected of giving 
ear to her wild predictions. Katharine removed from More to 
Ampthill. Here she employed her hours in prayer and good 
works, her only amusement being embroidery, in which she ex- 
celled and took much pleasure. Having heard of the illness of 
the Princess Mary, which occurred soon after her cruel separa- 
tion from her mother, and probably in consequence of it, Kath- 
arine entreated, through Cromwell, to have permission to see 
her child ; but this entreaty, though made in a spirit of humility 
and motherly tenderness, that must have wrought on any heart 
less stern than Henry's, was refused. The residence of Kath- 
arine was now removed to Bugden, a few miles from Hunting- 
don, whence the letters from her to the Princess Mary are sup- 
posed to have been written. Here, her ill-health increasing, 
she was observed to devote even more time than before to pious 
contemplation and prayer. For hours she would remain in the 
privacy of her chamber, on her knees, bathed in tears. It is 
piteous to think of this proud woman reduced to such sorrow, 
and though looking only to death for a release from it, too 
deeply attached to her daughter to desire that relief. But 
even the quiet of this solitude was denied her ; for it was broken 
by the visits of those sent by Henry from time to time to offer 
her some new insult, either by bringing before her articles to 
prove why she should resign all right to the title of queen or 
wife to Henry, or to insist that those around her addressed her 
only as princess-dowager. Such visits, however they angered 
or tortured her, never induced her to resign her rights, nor to 
betray any hatred of her who had usurped them. 

The cruelties that marked the reign of Henry at this period 
prove that the gratification of his passion for Anne Boleyn had 
not smoothed his rugged nature. The violent deaths of Sir 
Thomas More and Fisher, bishop of Rochester, had greatly 
shocked and grieved Katharine ; and the effect on her health 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 277 

soon became visible by its increased delicacy. Aware of her 
fast declining state, she applied to have her residence removed 
to the neighborhood of London; but this request, like her for- 
mer one to see her daughter, was sternly refused, and no choice 
allowed her but to proceed to Fotheringay Castle a spot so 
insalubrious that she at once declared she would only be taken 
there by force. Some time after, she removed to Kimbolton 
Castle, a place little less unhealthy than Fotheringay. 

Such was the respect Katharine inspired in the breasts ot 
those appointed to attend her, that they could not be induced to 
address her as any other than the king's wife and queen; and 
as this was strictly prohibited by Henry, several of them de- 
manded their dismissal, while others incurred punishment tor 
this violation of the king's commands. The unhappy queen s 
words were noted down and reported to the privy council by 
Sir Edmund Bedingfield, who had been appointed steward of 
her household, and who, by the wish of Henry, was to make 
reductions in her establishment. How moderate were the de- 
sires of Katharine may be judged "by the fact that she required 
only to retain "her confessor, her physician, and her apothecary, 
two men servants, and as many women as it should please the 
king's grace to appoint." Cruel and heartless as had hitherto 
been the conduct of Henry toward Katharine, it now became 
marked by meanness no less unworthy a sovereign than of her 
to whom it was directed. Katherine's confessors, Fathers for- 
est and Abell, were thrown into prison, and persecuted in the 
most savage manner to force from them declarations that might 
iustify the divorce from their royal mistress. Finahy they were 
both put to death in the most horrible manner, Forest being 
burnt alive with the most incredible barbarities. The income 
assigned to Katharine was only that to which as widow ot 
Prince Arthur she had been entitled, and of this sum, amount- 
ing to five thousand pounds a year, so considerable a portion 
was withheld, that sufficient remained not to defray the ex- 
penses of her limited establishment, though conducted on the 
most economical system; thus poverty was added to the other 
ills heaped on the defenseless head of this illustrious lady, who 
had been tempted by offers of wealth, if she would abandon her 
rights and consent to her own and her daughter s degradation. 
This poverty fell on her, too, when, with ruined health, she 
stood most in need of the many comforts necessary to soothe, 
though they could not mitigate, disease. 



278 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Feeling the hand of death fast approaching, Katharine en- 
treated to behold her daughter once more, that she might bless 
her before she died; but this last request was denied, and an- 
other drop was added to the cup of bitterness already nearly 
filled to overflowing, which she had been doomed by her brutal 
husband to drain. Yet she had the satisfaction of one true 
friend by her bedside during her last hours. This was Lady 
Willoughby d'Eresby. This lady was one of the maids of honor 
who had accompanied her from Spain, and had married Lord 
Willoughby. Hearing of the approaching end of her beloved 
mistress and countrywoman, she made her way to Kimbolton, 
and reaching it at nightfall on New Year's day, half-famished 
with cold, she had the address to make her way to the queen, in 
spite of the opposition of the Keepers Chamberlayne and Bed- 
ingfield, and never quitted her till she expired. A few hours 
before death had ended her sorrows, and when her dying hand 
could no longer hold a pen, she dictated the following farewell 
to Henry : 

"My most dear lord, king, and husband — The hour of my 
death now approaching, I cannot choose, but out of the love I 
bear you, to advise you of your soul's health, which you ought 
to prefer before all considerations of the world or flesh whatso- 
ever. For which yet you have cast me into calamities, and your- 
self into many troubles. But I forgive you all, and pray God to 
do likewise. For the rest I commend unto you Mary, our 
daughter, beseeching you to be a good father to her as I have 
hitherto desired. I must entreat you also to respect my maids, 
and give them in marriage, which is not much, they being but 
three ; and to all my other servants a year's pay besides their 
due, lest otherwise they should be unprovided for. Lastly, I 
make this vow, that mine eyes desire you above all things. 
Farewell." 

Henry is said to have wept when he perused this letter. 

Katharine expired on the 18th of January, 1536, in the fiftieth 
year of her age, and was interred in the monastry at Peter- 
borough, which, in honor of her memory, Henry caused to be 
preserved when he doomed others to destruction, and erected 
it into a bishop's see. 

The chamber in Kimbolton Castle where Katharine expired 
is still shown. It is hung with tapestry, which covers the door 
leading to the closet. One of her traveling trunks, also covered 
with scarlet velvet, and bearing on its lid the initials "K. R.," 
with the crown, is still there. 



KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 279 

Katharine of Arragon, the courtly daughter of the great Isa- 
bella of Spain, has left a name inferior to none in the English 
annals of female royalty. There was a queenly dignity and a 
womanly piety about her that forced even her most deadly 
enemies to respect her. Her masculine abilities and her lofty 
and assured temperament, set at defiance all the arts of her 
savage husband, and of the subtle tools he had around him. The 
pride of Wolsey quailed before her genuine majesty, and the 
sanguinary fury of Henry the Eighth was kept at bay. She was 
regarded by the nation in which she was a persecuted stranger 
with the deepest sentiments of respect and affection. Not a 
stain was any one able to find on her reputation, and the fine 
portrait which Shakespeare has drawn of her in his Henry the 
Eighth is as just as it is an enduring monument of her "rare 
qualities" and "true nobility." 



ANNE BOLEYN, 

SECONP QUEEN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. 

Anne Boleyn was the second daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, 
afterward created Viscount Rochford, and of the Lady Eliza- 
beth Howard, daughter of the celebrated Earl of Surrey, after- 
ward Duke of Norfolk ; and, according to Sir Henry Spelman, 
was born at Blickling Hall, in Norfolk. If the family of Boleyn 
were not originally among the ancient nobility of England, they 
intermarried into some of the highest of that class, for the 
grandfather of Anne, Sir William, married the co-heiress of the 
last Earl of Ormond, who brought him vast possessions, so that 
on the maternal side, at least, for two or three generations, Anne 
could claim alliance with some of the noblest houses in the land. 
The title of Rochford, which appertained to the family of Or- 
mond, was revived in Sir Thomas Boleyn, as were subsequently 
the titles of Ormond and Wiltshire. 

Great doubts exist as to the precise age of Anne Boleyn when 
she left England in the suite of the Princess Mary, sister of ' 
Henry the Eighth, when that princess proceeded to the solemn- 
ization of her nuptials with Louis the Twelfth of France. Sev- 
eral historians assert that Anne was then only in the seventh 
year of her age; but this can hardly be true, for 
what position could a female child fill in that courtly 
train? After the death of Louis, the Twelfth, which 
occurred in the February following his nuptials, and 
the marriage of his widowed queen with Brandon, the 
Duke of Suffolk, Anne Boleyn did not return with her, but re- 
mained in France for the completion of her education, and after 
some time is said to have entered the service of the queen of 
Francis the First, in which it is asserted by Camden, that she 
not only remained until the death of that queen, which occurred 
in 1524, but subsequently accepted the protection of the Duch- 
ess d'Alencon, sister of Francis the First, and afterward Queen 
of Navarre, so celebrated for her wit. If she returned to England 

280 



ANNE BOLEYN. 



281 



on the death of the Queen Claud in 1524, she must have been in 
her twenty-third year, for she appears, by the most probable ac- 
count, to have been born in 1501 ; and such a fascinating person 
as Anne is represented to have been must have proved a danger- 
ous temptation to a monarch who was not prone to resist the 
attractions of youth and beauty, as witness his love for the fair 
wife of Sir Gilbert Talbois, governor of Calais. If, however, 
she only returned to England in 1527 with her father, who was 
sent to France in September of that year, to conclude the treaty 
agreed on the previous April, then was she blameless of the ac- 
cusation of being the cause of first suggesting the divorce, as it 
is well known that Henry had adopted the resolution of seeking 
it before Anne's father had brought her back to England. The 
1 true time of her first return to England, it will, however, be 
seen, was late in 1521, or early in 1522, as the order for her re- 
call by Henry was signed in November, 1521. It was now that 
Henry saw her, and made his advances to her. But, as sug- 
gested by Burnet, there is every reason to believe that she again 
went to France, entered the service of Margaret, Duchess of 
Alencon, and returned finally to England with her father, when 
recalled from a diplomatic mission to the French court, in 1527. 
This, in fact, reconciles the conflicting dates of different writers. 
One thing, however, is clear, which is, that if Henry's passion 
for Anne Boleyn was not the cause of his first desiring a divorce 
from Queen Katharine, it is quite certain that it urged him to 
pursue it with a zeal and obstinacy that he might never have 
employed, had he not loved her. As to his alleged excuse for 
repudiating Katharine, namely, scruples of conscience, his after 
conduct furnished too many and too positive examples that his 
was not a conscience to be troubled by scruples. Henry was 
probably led. to desire a divorce because he was tired of a wife 
whose gravity reminded him that she was some years his senior, 
and by whom he despaired of having a male heir to his crown, 
long the object of his anxious desire. It is probable that had the 
two sons whom Katharine presented him with lived, he would 
have contented himself with being an unfaithful husband, with- 
out breaking the bond that united him to the mother of his 
children. 

The descriptions of Anne Boleyn, handed down to posterity 
by her contemporaries, prove that she must have been indeed a 
very attractive person ; and although the well-known passion 
entertained for her by Wyatt may lead us to suppose that his 



282 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

description of her charms partakes the exaggeration of the lover 
as well as of the poet, the more sober one of Chateaubriant, and 
the less flattering one of Sanders, convey an impression very 
favorable to her personal appearance. Even with less attrac- 
tions than "a stature tall and slender, an oval face, black hair, 
beauty and sprightliness hovering on her lips, in readiness for 
repartee, skill in the dance and in playing on the lute," and, 
though last not least, a rare and judicious taste in dress, which 
led to her being "the glass of fashion" by which all her com- 
panions wished to attire themselves, Anne must have been very 
captivating. Naturally lively and witty, with an uncommon 
facility in acquiring whatever was taught her, Anne Boleyn 
must have greatly profited by her abode with the clever and 
brilliant Duchess d'Alencon, whose fascination of manner and 
sprightly conversation were so universally acknowledged by her 
contemporaries. But while acquiring accomplishments, and the 
art of pleasing, with the beloved sister of Francis the First, it is 
but too probable that the moral principles of Anne were little 
cultivated, and that to her sejour beneath Marguerite's roof she 
owed the vivacity and levity, often passing the bounds of strict 
propriety, with which she was in after years charged, and which 
furnished weapons to wound her. These peculiarities, which 
probably formed her greatest attractions in the eyes of Henry 
when she first won his selfish heart, became sins of deep die 
when, sated with her charms, he sought to hurl her from the 
giddy height to which he had raised her. During her residence 
in France, although greatly admired, the reputation of Anne 
Boleyn was never assailed, and she returned to England free in 
heart, and spotless in character. 

Lord Herbert and others, among whom was Fiddes, state that 
Anne continued to dwell with the Duchess d'Alencon until some 
difference grew between Henry and Francis, which caused the 
English students to be recalled to their own country, at which 
time she also returned to her family. Fiddes adds, that Francis 
the First complained to the English ambassador "that the Eng- 
lish scholars and the daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn had re- 
turned home." 

It is known that Anne's return was advised by the king, for 
the purpose of arranging a marriage between her and Sir Piers 
Butler, the heir of him who contested the inheritance of Anne's 
great-grandfather, the last Earl of Wiltshire, this union being 
considered the best mode of stopning all vexatious suits between 



ANNE BOLEYN. 283 

the contending parties. Strange are the freaks of fortune, which 
shape the destinies of men— ^nay more, sometimes make them- 
selves the instruments to work out her will ! When Henry re- 
called Anne Boleyn to wed another, he little thought he was 
bringing back a future wife for himself. It appears that the 
order for her recall was given late in the year 1521, which would 
fix the date of her return, as we have already observed, to 1522. 
She soon afterward was appointed one of the maids of honor 
to Queen Katharine, little dreaming that she was to supplant 
her royal mistress. To the sober court of this virtuous lady 
Anne Boleyn transported not only the fashion in dress, but all 
the wiles and graces which she had acquired in the gay circles 
of the bewitching Marguerite. Her presence excited great ad- 
miration ; her musical skill, sweet voice, and piquant manners 
still more, while her sprightliness and uncontrolled (if not un- 
controllable) vivacity drew around her many admirers, among 
whom to one only did she accord encouragement ; this one was 
Henry, Lord Percy, the eldest son of the Earl of Northumber- 
land, and, like herself, contracted by his father to form a mar- 
riage based not on affection, but interest. This double engage- 
ment w.as forgotten on both sides in the delirium of a first love ; 
or, if remembered, this hindrance only served to increase, as 
obstacles generally do, the passion of the youthful pair. 

Henry had no sooner discovered the mutual love of the young 
pair than he commanded Cardinal Wolsey to take immediate 
steps to break the engagement between them, artfully giving, as 
an excuse for his angry interference, the arrangements pre- 
viously made for the marriage of both parties with persons 
selected by their respective families. Whether the cardinal, 
who was as expert in discovering the secret feelings and 
thoughts of others as in concealing his own, divined those of his 
self-willed sovereign or not, we have no evidence to prove ; but, 
entrusted with the command to separate the lovers, he vigor- 
ously carried it into immediate execution, to the grief and dis- 
may of Anne Boleyn and Percy. The rudeness and tyranny of 
Wolsey's treatment of Percy during their interview on this oc- 
casion, offers a striking proof of his natural insolence and 
brutality, which not even his elevation and long contact with a 
court could subdue. The young man was reproached and in- 
sulted with all the contumely with which a parvenu loves to 
visit those of high birth whenever chance gives him the power, 
and, unfortunately for Anne, although of an honorable mind 



284 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

and good intentions. Percy had not sufficient moral courage 
to resist the tyranny so unjustly exercised over him. 

That Percy, however fondly attached to Anne Boleyn, yielded 
implicit obedience to his stern father's commands, is proved by 
his marriage with the Lady Mary Talbot, the daughter of the 
Earl of Shrewsbury, in 1523. which confirms the belief that 
Anne Boleyn returned to England in the previous year. 

Anne's was not a nature to forgive or forget injuries speed- 
ily. Unsuspicious of the real motive of her separation from the 
object of her affections, she believed it originated wholly in the 
malice and love of interference of the cardinal, and by the ex- 
tent of her displeasure against him may be judged the warmth 
and sincerity of her love for Percy, and the bitterness of her 
disappointment for his loss. But time, the best soother of re- 
gret, in due season softened, if it did not eradicate hers, and 
Henry, who probably found a longer absence from her insup- 
portable, surprised the family at Hever by a visit, without, how- 
ever, beholding her for whom it was undertaken, for Anne, 
either through wounded pride or maidenly reserve, confined her- 
self to her chamber, nor left it until he had departed ; nor did 
her father wish her to see Henry, otherwise he would ha,ve com- 
manded her presence. This conduct on the part of father and 
daughter indicated a desire to avoid, rather than to encourage, 
the royal visitor, and probably piqued him more to pursue his 
object than a kind welcome might have done, it being a peculiar 
characteristic in the self-willed and obstinate to be incited into 
persistence by opposition. At all events, this avoidance of 
Henry by Anne proves that she held out no lures to attract him, 
and is honorable to her father. 

Some time elapsed before the king again presumed to visit 
Hever. The first visit had taught him that the conquest he medi- 
tated could hot be as easily achieved as he had expected, and he 
set to work to conciliate both father and daughter, by showering 
favors on the first, hitherto held back, though well merited by 
the services of Sir Thomas Boleyn, until his newly-formed pas- 
sion for his fair daughter inspired him with the desire of culti- 
vating the good will of the family for his own selfish and dis- 
honorable aims. Sir Thomas Boleyn was created Viscount 
Rochford, and appointed treasurer of the royal household, and 
Sir William Carey, the husband of Mary Boleyn, the elder sis- 
ter of Anne, was made gentleman of the privy chamber. 

Some months elapsed before Anne Boleyn was recalled to 



ANNE BOLEYN. 285 

court, and it does not appear that even then she entertained any 
notion of the king's attachment toward her. Nor, if she had, 
would it have either surprised or alarmed her, for such were 
the freedoms allowed in those times, that what in ours are 
termed flirtations, and censured, were then considered harmless, 
and tacitly permitted, if not approved in society. 

She had not long returned to court when Henry presented 
her with a costly jewel, to which gift' she attached so little im- 
portance, it being then a common custom to make similar ones, 
that she wore it without any reserve or fear of misconstruction. 
Emboldened by the gayety of manner, Henry some time after 
avowed his flame, the confession of which, far from meeting en- 
couragement from its object, excited her anger and indignation ; 
nor was it until after many apologies and entreaties for pardon 
that he was forgiven. It was on this occasion that Anne is said 
to have told him, in the words used by the Lady Elizabeth 
Grey, that "she was too good to be a king's mistress." From 
that moment, unaccustomed to resist the impulse of his ill- 
regulated passions, Henry determined to remove all obstacles 
to the indulgence of that which bound him to the fascinating 
Anne Boleyn, and pursued the necessary steps to procure a di- 
vorce from Katharine with increased vigor. 

Henceforth he addressed Anne with more respectful homage, 
and now, for the first time, ambition, hitherto dormant in her 
breast, or lulled to sleep by her deep affection for Percy, awoke, 
as the brilliant prospect of ascending a throne was opened to 
her by her sovereign. 

Among the persons whose society Anne Boleyn preferred 
were the celebrated Earl of Surrey, Sir Thomas Wyatt, and her 
own brother. Lord Rochford, three men whose literary acquire- 
ments, refined taste, and elegance of manner were remarkable 
at a period when these qualifications were far from being gen- 
eral. They, too, took especial delight in her company, and en- 
couraged her in her taste for literature. 

Conversing with her one day while she worked, Wyatt play- 
fully snatched from her jeweled tablet which hung by a lace 
from her pocket, and suspending it round his neck, beneath his 
dress, refused to return it, though repeatedly pressed to do so 
by her. Henry remarking that Wyatt frequently hovered 
around Anne, and feeling somewhat jealous of him, entreated 
her to give him a ring, which he wore on his little finger, in- 
tending on the first occasion by displaying it to Wyatt to make 



286 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

him sensible of Anne's preference to himself. Playing at blows 
shortly after with several nobles and gentlemen, among whom 
was Wyatt, Henry affirmed a cast to be his, which the others 
declared not to be so ; he, pointing with the finger on which was 
the ring, repeatedly addressing himself to Wyatt, said, "I tell 
thee, Wyatt, it is mine," laying a peculiar emphasis on the word 
mine. Wyatt, recognizing the ring, took the jeweled tablet 
from his breast, and holding the lace by which it was suspended 
in his hand, replied, "If it may please your majesty to give me 
leave to measure it with this lace, I hope it will be mine," and 
he stooped down to measure the cast. The king, recognizing 
the tablet, having frequently noticed it in Anne Boleyn's posses- 
sion, angrily spurned away the bowls and exclaimed, "It may 
be so — but then I am deceived !"* and broke up the game. He 
then hastened to the lady of his love, to whom he revealed his 
suspicions, which she quickly dissipated by declaring the truth, 
and Henry became more in love with her than ever, in conse- 
quence of the jealous pangs he had for a brief interval endured. 

For one so keenly observant of men and matters, Cardinal 
Wolsey was for a long time surprisingly ignorant of his mas- 
ter's real intentions toward Anne Boleyn, judging him possessed 
of a fleeting fancy. When the cardinal returned from his em- 
bassy to France, whither he had been sent to conciliate a friend- 
ship between Francis the First and Henry, as well as to propose 
a marriage between the Duke of Orleans, the second son of 
Francis, and the Princess Mary, the surprise could only be 
equaled by the alarm he experienced, when Henry revealed his 
matrimonial engagement with Anne Boleyn. Aware that to at- 
tempt to shake the king's resolve on this point would not only 
be utterly useless, but would inevitably draw on himself the dis- 
pleasure of his sovereign, he concealed his feelings and de- 
termined, by delaying as long as he possibly could the proceed- 
ings for the divorce, to give Henry time to be weaned from 
Anne Boleyn before its accomplishment, counting on the natural 
fickleness and caprice of his master for the probability of this 
result. 

Cardinal Wolsey felt a peculiar repugnance to Anne Boleyn. 
Whether it originated in having observed certain demonstra- 
tions of dislike on her part, occasioned by the recollection of his 
having broken off her engagement with Percy, the only man 



^Extracts from the "Life of Anne Boleign," by George Wyatt, Esq., 
p. 7, printed in Cavendish's "Life of Cardinal Wolsey," p. 427. 



ANNE BOLEYN. 287 

she ever really loved, or that his suspicions of her disposition 
toward the tenets of Luther had been excited, has never been 
proved ; but certain it is, that Henry's choice of a wife among 
all his subjects could not have fallen on any one so objectionable 
to the cardinal as Anne. Yet, when he believed that Henry's 
views were directed to her in a dishonorable way, Wolsey, for- 
getful of the conduct it behoved his sacred profession to pursue, 
in direct violation of all morality and decency, encouraged the 
attachment, and gave fetes expressly to afford opportunities for 
Henry and Anne to meet. 

The decorum of Anne's conduct for a long time prevented the 
queen from discovering that her husband's desire to divorce her 
did not originate wholly in the scruples of conscience which he 
affected to feel on the subject, or, at least, that another motive 
urged him more impatiently to accomplish it. At a splendid en- 
tertainment given to the French ambassador at Greenwich, the 
homage offered by Henry to Anne was so openly displayed, 
that it excited general remark, and led to Katharine's discovery 
of the truth. The reproaches of the indignant queen awakened 
no remorse in the self-willed and selfish Henry, who only be- 
came more anxious to break the bond that still united him to 
an injured woman, whose presence had grown odious to him. 
It had been noticed that ever since Katharine had first heard 
that a divorce was contemplated, she had taken more pains in 
her dress, and had assumed a gayety and love of pleasure always 
foreign to her nature, but now peculiarly so, when her heart 
was wounded in its tenderest affections, and her mind tor-> 
mented by all the feelings of jealousy and fear. This was the 
last effort of a despairing but still loving wife to win back her 
husband, by adopting the light pleasures he enjoyed. She even 
encouraged music and dancing, and mingled in scenes of festiv- 
ity ill-suited to her sober tastes and tortured heart. But vain 
were the attempts to please and conciliate him who looked for 
happiness in another's eyes ! The grave and stately Katharine, 
formed to inspire respect, could ill compete with the young and 
fascinating Anne Boleyn, whose smiles and graces won admira- 
tion and created love. If all beholders were ready to acknowl- 
edge the contrast between the past and present possessor of 
Henry's affection, how much more powerful did he feel it ! The 
very attempt of Katharine to please and lure him back offended 
and disgusted him, and his time-serving courtiers, seeing his 
increasing dislike to his unhappy queen, and growing passion 



288 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

for her rival, transferred to Anne Boleyn the obsequious dem- 
onstration of respect which they had previously paid to Kath- 
arine. The great mass of the people, however, swerved not 
from their allegiance to their queen, and so strongly manifested 
their dissatisfaction at the neglect and injustice which she ex- 
perienced, that it was found expedient that Anne should leave 
the court for a time^ How impatiently she submitted to this 
step was proved not only by her angry declaration when it oc- ' 
curred, "that she would return no more," but by the sullen 
silence which she maintained, not deigning to return any an- 
swers to the loving and submissive letters addressed to her by 
Henry during the two months she remained in the country. 
The humiliation of her compelled absence from the court so 
offended the pride of Anne, that to soothe her, a magnificent 
residence was prepared for her in London ; but even with this 
peace offering she long resisted the pressing requests of the 
king and the commands of her father, ere she consented to re- 
turn to court. The mansion provided for her was Suffolk 
House, on which Henry expended a large sum, to prepare it for 
Her reception. So impatient was her royal lover for her arrival 
that he wrote to urge her to abridge by two days the time 
named for that event. When Cardinal Wolsey busied himself 
in procuring this dwelling for Anne, which was near York 
House, his own abode, and probably selected because of its con- 
venience for Henry's constant visits to her, he little anticipated 
that he was preparing the way for the final loss of that stately 
pile, which he lent to the king on the occasion, but of which 
Henry ever after kept possession. 

While Anne Boleyn was impatiently anticipating the divorce 
which was to enable her to ascend the throne she so ardently 
longed to share, the disease known by the name of "sweating 
sickness" broke out, and caused universal alarm in the court. 
Henry, who had only just completed his pedantic treatise on the 
illegality of his marriage with Katharine, a production of which 
he was not a little vain, making no slight merit to Anne of the 
labor which it cost him, was struck with such superstitious 
dread by this alarming epidemic that he consented to the rep- 
resentations of Wolsey to send Anne to her father's seat in 
Kent. To her he pretended that this step was taken in order to 
preserve her from infection, while in truth it was the result of 
his own superstitious fears, as was proved by his effecting a 
reconciliation with his queen, his belief in her sanctity leading 
him to think that near her he would be safe. 



ANNE BOLEYN. 289 

Anne did not escape the dangerous malady then raging with 
such fury. It assailed her a month after she arrived in Kent, 
and for some time her life was in danger, and Henry in the ut- 
most alarm. He sent his own physician to attend her, and 
visited her himself soon after her convalescence. It was prob- 
ably during this visit that the joint letter supposed to be ad- 
dressed by Anne and Henry to Cardinal Wolsey was writ- 
ten, but which letter, in a mutilated form, we find given in Sir 
Henry Ellis' Original Letters as being written by Queen Kath- 
arine and Henry. 

Once established in Suffolk House, the open court paid to her 
by her enamored sovereign and his courtiers, left no doubt on 
the minds of all those who witnessed it, that her position was of 
a most compromising nature. Scandal, ever ready to judge by 
appearances, blazoned forth the imagined culpability of Anne, 
who must have consoled herself for present humiliation by the 
anticipation of future dignity and grandeur, when the homage 
then offered to her would be justified by her elevation to the 
throne. It was not alone in England that intelligence of her 
position at court was circulated. The ambassadors from for- 
eign courts reported it to their own, and Anne's reputation was 
the sacrifice paid for her premature assumption of the queenly 
state, to which she hoped soon to have a right. 

The forebearance of Queen Katharine, under the trials to 
which she was exposed, was remarkable. It was only on one 
occasion, as before related, that she is said to have betrayed her 
consciousness that in Anne Boleyn she had a rival. Playing at 
at cards with Anne, there was a rule in the game that in dealing 
the cards the dealer should stop on turning up a king or queen. 
It happened that Anne had repeatedly turned up a king, which 
Katharine remarking, exclaimed, "My Lady Anne, you have 
good luck to stop at a king ; but you are not like others ; you 
will have all or none." 

The opportunities afforded to Henry of seeing the object of 
his passion continually, owing to the contiguity of Suffolk 
House to York House, only served to increase his affection. 
Few ever possessed in a more eminent degree the powers of 
fascination than did Anne Boleyn, and now determined to reap 
the reward of so many humiliations, it may easily be supposed 
that she put them all in practice, to secure the heart of her lover, 
who, impatient to call her his, waited not for their marriage to 
justify her claim to the honors rendered to royalty, but exacted 



290 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

from his courtiers the same observances and etiquette for her 
that was paid to the queen. Anne held her levees, which were 
far more numerously attended than those of Katharine. She had 
her ladies-in-waiting, her trainbearer and her chaplains ; and 
dispensed patronage in church and state. 

The delays of the proceedings in the divorce, annoying as 
they were to Henry, were still more so to Anne, who, anxious 
to be extricated from the false position in which she found her- 
self, impatiently longed for its termination, and possessing an 
exti^me quickness of apprehension, rightly divined that Card- 
inal Wolsey, however he might outwardlv affect to desire its 
completion, was more disposed to lengthen than expedite the 
proceedings. This well-founded suspicion revived in her breast 
her old dislike to Wolsey, a dislike which only slumbered, but 
was not dead. She urged the king to send Gardiner to Rome a 
second time to plead for the divorce, and from that period may 
be dated her firm intention to destrov Wolsey's influence with 
the king. Other circumstances subsequently occurred to in- 
crease her dislike to the all-powerful minister. It chanced that 
a book, highly estimated by Anne, and said to be no other than 
Tindal's translation of the Holy Scriptures, but lately com- 
pleted, had been taken from her chamber by one of her ladies, 
who was engaged in its perusal, when a suitor of hers snatched 
it from her, and took it with him to the king's chapel. Its con- 
tents so wholly engrossed his attention that he was unmindful 
when the service concluded, and continued to read on, which 
so much excited the curiosity of the dean of the chapel that he 
requested the young gentleman to give him a sight of the book, 
when, finding it to be the forbidden translation of the Scrip- 
tures, he carried it to Cardinal Wolsey. Anne Boleyn having 
missed the volume, was told the truth, and instantly sent for 
the young gentleman, who having related the affair, she lost 
not a moment in seeking the king, and intreating him for the 
restoration of her valued treasure. He effected this, and, at 
her request, perused the volume, to which is attributed the 
great change in his opinions which followed. 

Anne, now determined to effect the ruin of him whom she be- 
lieved to be her secret enemy, was enabled to furnish such proofs 
of the cardinal's duplicity to the king as could not be refuted, 
which she accomplished by showing Henry certain letters from 
Wolsey to Rome, establishing the fact of his playing false to his 
master. Nevertheless, Henrv did not abandon his old favorite 



ANNE BOLEYN. 291 

without reluctance, and more than once betrayed such inde- 
cision on this point, that it may be surmised he would not have 
totally cast him off, had not the vast pecuniary advantages cer- 
tain to accrue to himself by such a measure urged him on. 
Anne's pertinacity to banish Wolsey never subsided. She 
watched every symptom of returning pity in Henry, and by re- 
peating everything disadvantageous -to the cardinal which she 
could learn, kept up in his mind the displeasure which she had 
originally excited, until she extorted a promise from the king 
that he would see Wolsey no more. 

The bills found against the cardinal for the abuse of his 
power while in office were, it is said, the result of Anne Boleyn's 
unceasing efforts to ruin him, and so conscious had the fallen 
favorite become of this, that he left no means untried to gain her 
intercession with the king for the mitigation of his punishment. 
The pity shown by Henry when he learned the dangerous ill- 
ness of the cardinal, some months after, proves that his heart 
was not always inaccessible to gentler feelings than those which 
generally marked his rugged and selfish nature, for he not ojily 
sent him a ring, in token of his good will, but instructed Anne 
Boleyn to send with it some mark of hers. 

The fallen Wolsey would have escaped much humiliation had 
he then died, for the returning good will and clemency of the 
king were but of brief duration, and his recovery to something 
like health was soon followed by his arrest for high treason. 
It was no slight aggravation to his chagrin, that to the Earl of 
Northumberland was consigned the warrant for his arrest ; and 
that nobleman, not forgetting that the cardinal had been instru- 
mental in destroying the happiness of his life, trembled violently 
with the agitation of his feelings, and treated Wolsey very ig- 
nominiously, causing his legs to be bound to the stirrups of his 
mule, like a common malefactor. 

It was only at the end of the month's imprisonment, and an 
acknowledgment of being guilty of praemunire, that Wolsey 
obtained his liberty, after having, through the medium of Crom- 
well, humbly but vainly solicited the aid of Anne Boleyn in his 
favor with the king. What must have been the secret rage of 
the cardinal at being compelled to sue, and sue in vain, to her 
whom, however he might have flattered, he in his heart de- 
spised. Having enriched the royal coffers with his possessions, 
Henry, as a favor, permitted Wolsey to retire to his see at York 
with an income of four thousand pounds a year, which to him, 



292 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

who had so long enjoyed a princely revenue, seemed little short 
of poverty — a striking example of the vicissitude of fortune and 
the instability of royal favor. Just five and twenty days after his 
arrest, the fallen cardinal breathed his last. The vengeance of 
an injured woman was sated by his ruin and his death. 

It was probably the interviews sought by Cromwell with 
Anne, to solicit her pity for the cardinal, that established a con- 
fidence and good will on her part toward him, which finally led 
to the accomplishment of the object for the attainment of which 
she had so long pined. A friend faithful in adversity to the 
fallen favorite of a powerful and despotic sovereign is, unfor- 
tunately for humanity, a character as rare as it is respectable, 
and must have impressed Anne strongly in Cromwell's favor, 
even while she declined the suit he urged. Whatever was the 
origin of Cromwell's interest in Anne, certain it is that he ren- 
dered her efficient service when, notwithstanding the king's 
passion for her, she stood in the greatest need of some aid to 
strengthen his wavering mind. The divorce still desired, and 
the efforts to obtain it now universally known all over the con- 
tinent, were opposed by all professing the Roman Catholic 
faith. Nor were the reformers less inimical to it. It is a curi- 
ous circumstance, that for once, and only once, the pope and his 
most dangerous opponent, Luther, agreed in thinking it better 
that Henry the Eighth should be permitted to have two wives 
than to divorce one — an opinion which did not satisfy any of 
the three individuals most interested in the affair. 

Henry, alarmed at the untiring opposition offered to his 
wishes on every side, might probably have abandoned the pro- 
ject had not Cromwell's courageous sufp'estion of freeing Eng- 
land from the papal rule opened a way to the enamored mon- 
arch for arriving at the final accomplishment of his wishes. The 
first step taken on the new and tortuous path Henry was now 
entering was the expulsion of the queen from Windsor, and the 
establishment of her rival in her place, which step was followed, 
in four or five months, by her being created Marchioness of 
Pembroke, the first instance of the creation of a female peer. No 
state nor ceremony was omitted to confer solemnity on this act ; 
it took place in Windsor Castle, in presence of the king and a 
vast train of the highest lords and ladies in the land, among 
whom were those of the relations of Anne most likely to add 
splendor to the ceremony. The choice of the title proves Henry's 
desire to confer more than ordinary honor on his beloved mis- 



ANNE BOLEYN. 293 

tress, for it had last belonged to the uncle of the king, and with 
it he granted her and her heirs precedence over all other ladies 
of similar rank in the kingdom, notwithstanding that there were 
then two marchionesses standing in near relationship with the 
royal family. 

From this period the king was accompanied by the newly- 
made marchioness wherever he went, and shortly after he 
caused to be made known to Francis the First, through the 
medium of the French ambassador then in England, his desire 
that Anne should be invited to go with him to the approaching 
congress to be held at Calais. The passage in the ambassador's 
letter to his master, Francis the First, which refers to this point, 
is curious. "If our sovereign," writes Bellai, "wishes to gratify 
the King of England, he can do nothing better than invite 
Madame Anne with him to Calais, and entertain her there with 
great respect." 

We are led to conclude that this intimation from his am- 
bassador was not neglected by Francis the First, for in the Oc- 
tober following, Anne, attended by the Marchioness of Derby 
and a retinue of other noble ladies, embarked for Calais with the 
king, whence, in a week after, they proceeded with great splen- 
dor to Boulogne, to meet the French king, where they were en- 
tertained in a princely style by that monarch during the few 
days they remained there. Francis accompanied Henry and 
Anne back to Calais, where Henry, determined not to be out- 
done in magnificence, and also to give eclat to his future bride, 
exhibited a splendor never before witnessed in Europe, if we 
may credit the accounts given by the historians who have de- 
scribed them. At a masque which followed the supper given 
by Henry to Francis and his court on the Sunday evening, 28th 
of October, the Marchioness of Pembroke, Anne Boleyn, with 
seven ladies, in masking apparel of strange fashion, made of 
cloth of gold, slashed with crimson tinsel satin, puffed with 
cloth of silver, and knit with laces of gold, entered the state 
chamber. Then the Lady Marchioness took the French king, 
the Countess of Derby the King of Navarre, and every lady 
took a lord. In dancing, King Henry removed the ladies' 
vizors, so that their beauties were shown. The French king 
then discovered that he had danced with an old acquaintance, 
the lovely English maid of honor of his first queen, for whose 
departure he had chidden the English ambassador ten years be- 
fore. He conversed with her some little time apart, and the next 



294 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

morning sent her as a present a jewel valued at fifteen thousand 
crowns. 

It is asserted that Francis the First, from private motives, en- 
couraged Henry to follow his own inclination to wed Anne Bo- 
leyn without waiting any longer for the divorce, and that Henry 
soon after his return to England, adopted this advice. It has 
been said that the nuptials were privately celebrated at Dover, 
on the king's arrival there ; while other authorities state them to 
have taken place in Norfolk. The strict secrecy observed proves 
how much Henry dreaded the unpopularity the measure was 
calculated to create, but which he risked for the gratification of 
a passion which he had not the self-control to subdue. Sir 
Thomas Wyatt, as well as other historians, declare that the 
ceremony was privately celebrated January 25, 1532-3, by Dr. 
Lee, in the presence of the Earl and Countess of Wiltshire, and 
other witnesses. Anne was now about thirty-one years of age. 
Henry felt the necessity of boldly pushing forward measures 
for the pronunciation of the divorce, and, in consequence, an 
assembly of the episcopal court was convened, to which Kath- 
arine was again cited, and on not answering, she was declared 
contumacious, and the sentence of divorce was pronounced by 
Cranmer. The following Easter, on April 12, the marriage was 
again solemnized between the King and Anne, but this time 
publicly, the position of the new queen rendering such a meas- 
ure necessary, she being pregnant, and immediately after, a 
proclamation for the coronation of Anne was issued. Letters 
were sent to the proper legal authorities, directing them to 
conduct the new queen, with all accustomed ceremonies, from 
Greenwich to the Tower, and "to see the city garnished with 
pageants, according to ancient custom, for her reception." 

The preface to the regal festival, namely, the conducting the 
queen from Greenwich to the Tower, presented one of the most 
brilliant sights ever beheld in England, and well calculated to 
enlist the patriotic sympathies of the nation at large, by ex- 
hibiting the splendor of the civic fleet, of which all were proud. 
"The queen embarked at Greenwich in a state barge escorted by 
no less than fifty barges, with awnings of cloth of gold or silk, 
emblazoned with the arms of England, and ornamented with 
various curious devices, among which the queen's appropriate 
one of a falcon was eminently consnicuous. The lord mayor's 
barge was next to the royal one, in which, superbly attired in 
cloth of gold, sat Anne, surrounded by her ladies. A hundred 



ANNE BOLEYN. 295 

barges belonging to the nobility followed, magnificently orna- 
mented with silk or cloth of gold, gliding on in harmonious 
order and to measured strains of music. The river was covered 
with boats, the shores were lined with spectators, and it might 
be supposed that London was deserted of its inhabitants, but for 
the innumerable multitudes collected near the Tower, to witness 
the queen's disembarkation." 

On the following day, Anne was conveyed in a litter through 
the streets of the metropolis, attended by a brilliant procession, 
and attired in a style of regal splendor that lent new charms 
to her person, and on Whit-Sunday the ceremony of her corona- 
tion closed. 

In her uncle, the proud Duke of Norfolk, the queen had a 
secret enemy; for, a firm supporter of the ancient faith, he 
looked with aversion on her who was accused of leading to its 
subversion, and eyed with bitter jealousy her father and 
brother, whose influence over her he knew to be great. He 
likewise was enraged that the choice of Henry had not fallen on 
his own daughter, the fair Lady Mary Howard, instead of on 
his niece; and thus discontented, and bent on injuring those he 
envied, he formed an intimacy with one whose enmities were 
as stubborn and implacable as his own, urged on by a bigotry 
still greater. This ally was no other than Gardiner, bishop of 
Winchester, a man more desirous of gratifying his own ambi- 
tious views than fastidious as to the means to be employed for 
carrying them into effect. The Earl of Wiltshire, who had 
looked for greater aggrandizement when he became the father- 
in-law of the king, was dissatisfied that his expectations had 
not been realized, and thought that his daughter might have 
accomplished this point ; so that in only one branch of her 
family could Anne hope for sympathy and affection, notwith- 
standing that she had done all in her power to forward the 
interests of all. The branch to which we refer was the Lord 
Rochford, her brother, no less endeared to her by the ties of 
consanguinity than by a congeniality of tastes and pursuits. 
Lord Rochford, the friend and companion of the Earl of Sur- 
rey and Sir Thomas Wyatt, possessed, like them, a refinement 
of taste and manners, and a talent for as well as a love of liter- 
ature, which rendered his society peculiarly agreeable to Anne. 
In his fraternal heart all her thoughts and cares were reposed, 
and in this dear brother she found her truest friend. He had 
wedded a woman utterly unsuited to him, and who, instead of 



296 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

correcting the evil qualities which rendered her so distasteful 
to her husband, resented with bitter hate the indifference he 
could not conceal. The affection between the brother and sis- 
ter — an affection in which only a base and depraved mind 
could dream of evil — excited a rage and jealousy in her breast 
which only required an opportunity to blaze forth into a de- 
structive flame. This bad woman, in right of her connection 
with the queen, was suffered to be near her at court, as was 
also the Lady Edward Boleyn, the wife of her uncle, although 
both these ladies had always been peculiarly disagreeable to 
Anne. 

Whatever might have been the levity and love of pleasure 
attributed to Anne previously to her ascending the throne, it 
was allowed by all who approached her afterward that her 
bearing and manners had become as dignified and decorous as 
could be wished, although free from any assumption of undue 
pride, which would only have reminded her subjects that she 
had not always been so dignified. 

Anne's successful interference with the king to protect Lati- 
mer drew on her the ill-will of all opposed to the reform, 
among whom he had once been a zealous advocate against in- 
novation, and who, consequently, became his bitterest enemies 
when he adopted the new faith. Latimer's counsels helped to 
establish the change that had already taken place in Anne's 
sentiments ; she had soon found how far short fell the reality 
of gratified pride and ambition from the notions she had 
formed of them, and felt how little happiness their possession 
could confer. She became grave and thoughtful, and the alter- 
ation well accorded with her new position: her charities were 
extensive and judicious, yet so unostentatious that their 
amount surprised many when, long after, the truth was made 
known. 

Although most desirous of a son, Henry bore the disappoint- 
ment of his hopes better than could have been anticipated, and 
welcomed the infant Elizabeth with fatherly affection, if not 
with joy, acknowledging her to be presumptive heiress to the 
crown and as such to be treated. With so much cause for 
satisfaction, much existed to remind Anne that happiness is 
not long a guest on earth. Circumstances occasionally occurred 
which pained and mortified her, and from which not even 
the power of the sovereign could protect her. The impudence 
of Elizabeth Barton, the nun of Bocking, furnished an occasion 



• ANNE BOLEYN. 297 

of chagrin to the queen, by her witnessing the sympathy it 
excited for her predecessor Katharine ; and, although exposure 
and heavy punishment awaited the instigators or encouragers 
of the nun's delusion, its effect on the minds of the people 
did not easily subside. How painful is it to reflect that the 
great Sir Thomas More, however strongly he denied all par- 
ticipation in this pious fraud, nevex wholly exculpated him- 
self from the charge ; and that Fisher, bishop of Rochester, 
was the dupe and martyr of this artful and wicked woman ! 
The death of those people, however, was, it must be recollected, 
owing to their conscientious opposition to the unjust act of 
Henry in favor of Anne Boleyn's issue, and to the exclusion 
of the Princess Mary, who was, moreover, branded by it with 
illegitimacy. 

Nor can we acquit Anne, after her marriage, of her jealousy 
of the general consideration accorded to Katharine, and her 
want of kindness to the Princess Mary. For this last 
unwomanly conduct, so much at variance with her whole life, 
we can find no excuse, unless it be the unworthy one of fear- 
ing to bring forward the Princess Mary, lest it should remind 
the people more strongly of her claims, and of the injuries 
inflicted on her mother. The severities practiced against those 
who refused to take the oath of the king's supremacy and to 
the new act of succession, denying the legality of the king's 
marriage with Katharine, and, consequently, the legitimacy of 
her daughter, kept alive an unpopularity for Anne, which gave 
great pain to her, one of whose weaknesses, if it might be 
so called, consisted in a warm desire to be loved by the people ; 
out, when More and Fisher were among the victims of their 
conscientious refusal to take this oath, the esteem in which 
they were universally held created the strongest prejudice 
against her, for whose interest this act of supremacy and 
succession was passed. 

When the account of Sir Thomas More's execution was 
brought to Henry, he was playing at tables with Anne, and, 
casting his eyes upon her, he said, "Thou art the cause of 
this man's death !" and, rising, he left his unfinished game, 
and shut himself up in his chamber in great perturbation. 

About this time died Katharine of Arragon, at Kimbolton, 
in Huntingdonshire ; and the indecent satisfaction of Queen 
Anne on this event did not increase the good-will of her sub-, 
jects. The persistence of Katharine in retaining the title of 



298 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Queen, after the sentence of divorce, which greatly enraged 
Henry, must have been the cause of Anne's satisfaction at her 
death, for then she felt she was indeed the sole queen in 
England. Nevertheless, it was unwise, as well as unfeeling, 
to betray pleasure on such an occasion. She dreamt not 
how soon she would follow to the grave her whose death had 
gratified her ! and perhaps her joy disgusted Henry, who is 
said to have shed tears when he perused Katharine's last letter 
to him. 

The consideration and respect shown to Anne by the German 
reformers, as was proved by the princes of that country, who 
offered to declare Henry the head and protector of the 
Smalcalde League, excited the jealousy of the king. He had 
sought Anne as the toy of his lighter hours, the mistress of 
his pleasures ; and when he found that she aspired to a higher 
sphere of action, his tenderness for her soon diminished. He 
wished her to have no title to admiration, save that reflected 
from being his queen, and was vexed that the influence she 
had acquired over him should be so well known, and redound 
more to her credit than his own.- Again Anne gave hopes 
of becoming a mother, and Henry's tenderness seemed once 
more to revive, when, unhappily for her, a new beauty caught 
his eye, and captivated his fickle heart. Nevertheless, he still 
retained the mask of affection for his queen, and probably 
might never have destroyed her, had she not one day surprised 
him bestowing on her rival, Jane Seymour, those caresses 
which she believed he lavished only on herself, while the lady 
received them with a docility which went far to prove to 
the jealous queen that a perfectly good understanding must 
have been for some time established between the lovers. Rage 
and jealousy amounting almost to frenzy, took possession 
of the tortured brain of Anne, and the effect of these violent 
passions produced the premature birth of a dead son, and led 
to the imminent danger of her life. The disappointment of 
Henry at this event could only be equaled by his anger, and 
with the selfishness which ever characterized him, he upbraided 
his suffering wife with a harshness which drew from her the 
reproach that his infidelity and unkindness had been the 
cause. Stung by this reproof, he uttered an oath that she 
should have no other son by him, and left her terrified at the 
consequence of her own natural but unwise recrimination. 

The death of Katharine but a short time previously to the 



ANNE BOLEYN. 299 

accouchement of Anne had awakened many grave reflections 
in the mind of Henry. He now felt how much wiser it would 
have been, had he patiently awaited for that event — a line of 
conduct which, now that his passion for Anne was cooled, and 
a new flame kindled in his heart, appeared very easy, although 
he had found it otherwise when he loved her. Influenced by 
his new passion, he was anxious to get rid of Anne, in order 
to wed Jane Seymour, as he had formerly been to free him- 
self from Katharine, to wed Anne; but a simple divorce, to 
be obtained by any pretext, or false accusation to be brought 
against her, would not satisfy him, because, she would survive 
him — an event more than probable from her being so many 
years his junior, and from his own growing infirmities, — 
she might interfere to prevent the succession of any offspring 
Jane Seymour might bear him. 

To prevent the possibility of such a contingency, Anne's 
life must be sacrificed; and when was the unfeeling and 
tyrannical Henry ever known to pause in any step that could 
gratify his own wishes, though purchased by the ruin of 
another? Courtiers are never slow to discover when a change 
takes place in the feelings of their sovereign, or to evince 
their devotion to him by becoming the enemies of those who 
no longer enjoyed his favor. It was soon observed that Jane 
Seymour had banished Anne Boleyn from Henry's heart, and 
as in the former case, the courtiers turned their adulation 
to Anne from Katharine, so they now directed it to Jane 
Seymour from Anne. Among the first to notice the king's 
estrangement from his queen, was the Lady Rochford, who, 
hating her sister-in-law with an intensity that triumphed over 
every womanly feeling, became the ready spy of Henry ; when 
he, aware of the dislike she entertained for his queen, employed 
her to watch her movements. The result may be easily antic- 
ipated. This base person, now furnished with an opportunity 
of gratifying her hatred, brought forward a charge against 
the queen and her brother, of a crime so terrible that only 
the vilest could imagine, the most vicious believe. Their 
frequent interviews, so natural between brother and sister, 
were made the pleas for a guilt, .the bare notion of which 
never could be contemplated without horror. The improb- 
ability of such a charge being credited induced the foes of 
Anne to prefer other accusations against her, and to name 



300 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

individuals holding appointments in the royal household, as 
being her paramours. 

If Katharine found no one to plead in her favor, Anne was 
less likely to do so ; for having excited the enmity of the 
catholics by her support of the reformers, and these last being 
too few in number to give importance to any defense they 
might wish to offer for her, she found herself unprotected 
against the machinations put in practice for her ruin ; the 
known estrangement of her husband having turned her secret 
foes into open enemies. Yet, though tortured by the pangs 
of jealousy, Anne exercised sufficient self-control to appear 
calm and courteous, in the hope of winning back the affection 
of her cruel husband, once so devotedly her own. She could 
not bring herself to believe that it was irrecoverably lost — 
that all the love he once bore her, all the hours of happiness 
they had known — were forgotten for ever ; and while he was 
concerting plans not only against her honor, but her life, 
she was decking her face in smiles to please him, and cheating 
herself with hopes of success. The king convened a parlia- 
ment, the motive for which was kept a profound secret, except 
to his private advisers, for the purpose of annulling the act 
of succession in favor of Anne and her offspring. 

Meanwhile, the constant interviews between Henry and Jane 
Seymour increased his passion for her, and rendered him more 
impatient to break all obstacles that opposed its gratification. 
He avoided the society of the queen, and treated her with a 
marked coldness, most ominous to one who so well knew the 
implacibility of his nature. 

The last occasion on which Anne appeared in regal state 
was at a tournament held at Greenwich, on the ist of May; 
and it was observed that her beauty, though lately dimmed 
by care and anxiety, shone forth resplendent. Lord Rochford 
challenged Norris, and the queen, like all present, looked on 
with interest at the playful combat, when the king abruptly 
left the sport, exhibiting an angry aspect, as if displeased 
by something which he had noticed — a movement which 
alarmed Anne, and induced her soon after to retire from her 
place. The cause of the king's anger, or, more probably, the 
studied plea for it, is said to be this : the queen, either by 
design or accident, dropped her handkerchief at the feet of 
Norris, who, being heated in the course, took it up, wiped 
his face with it, and then handed it to the queen on the 



ANNE BOLEYN. 301 

point of his lance. It was not until the following day that 
Anne learned that Lord Rochford, Norris, and two other 
gentlemen had been arrested and sent to the Tower ; but dis- 
tressing as was the arrest of her brother, how was her inflic- 
tion increased, when, after dinner, her uncle the Duke of 
Norfolk, in whom she knew she had an enemy, with Sir 
Thomas Audley and some others, entered the room, followed 
by the governor of the Tower, and revealed to her that she 
was instantly to depart to that place ! The duke gave the 
order so rudely, as to indicate that it afforded him more 
satisfaction than pain. "I am ready to obey the king's 
pleasure," said Anne, with calmness, though her pallid face 
announced the effort it cost her to appear tranquil. She 
waited not to change her dress, but immediately resigned 
herself to the custody of those who had arrested her, and 
entered the barge. Her stern and cruel uncle -then informed 
her that denial of her guilt was in vain, as her paramours had 
confessed it ; but she earnestly and passionately declared her 
innocence, and demanded to see the king. The Duke of 
Norfolk contemptously refused credence to her protestations, 
and his companions, with one exception, followed his example, 
no longer treating her with respect ; a proof that they well 
knew she was prejudged. Having reached the Tower, she 
was confieded to the custody of Kingston, its governor — a 
man remarkable for his cruelty, and who, having witnessed 
the disrespectful conduct of the Duke of Norfolk and the 
other members of the council to his prisoner, was not disposed 
to treat her better. She inquired whether she was to be shut 
up in a dungeon. "No, madam," replied he, "but in the same 
chamber you lodged in before your coronation." 

What bitter memories did these words evoke ! and how did 
her present misery become aggravated by the recollection of 
her past splendor and happiness when she was last a cherished 
guest in the place now converted to her prison ! Well has 
Dante said — 

"Nessun maggior dolore, 
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice, 
Nella miseria," 

and deeply did the unhappy queen now experience this 
wretchedness. "Oh! where is my sweet brother?" inquired 
Anne, as a flood of tears streamed down her pale cheeks; 



302 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

but Kingston, though not given to pity, could not tell her 
that Lord Rochford was now in the same prison. "I hear 
I shall be accused with three men," said the queen ; "but if 
they open my body" (and therewith she opened her gown), 
"I can but say, Nay, Nay. O my mother! thou wilt die for 
sorrow !" 

The agony of her first hour in the Tower was so intense, 
that even Kingston was moved to pity : but by degrees it sub- 
sided into a deep sadness, and she entreated that she might 
receive the sacrament in a closet adjoining her chamber, and 
resigned herself to the will of God. The unfortunate queen 
had still new humiliations to endure ; for Henry, with a malice 
that haunted his victim even to her prison, appointed those 
of her ladies whom she most disliked to be her attendants 
there — her aunt, Lady Edward Boleyn, and Mrs. Cosyns. 
These ladies fully entered into the spirit of the cruel tyrant 
by whose will they were placed as spies on his unhappy 
wife. They allowed her no respite from their hatred presence, 
and reported every word she uttered, even while she slept, 
and in her troubled dreams revealed the terror and grief of 
her tortured breast. But not satisfied with this inquisitorial 
espionage, they put the most artful questions to her, in order 
to inculpate her by her own admissions. Frank and unguarded 
as Anne's nature was admitted to be, it cannot be believed 
that to two women whom she disliked she would have made 
the avowals which these declared, relative to her conversations 
with Norris — conversations fraught with danger to her. 

The reports made to Cromwell by the governor of the 
Tower were founded on the information given to him by the 
two female spies, who repeated every word — nay more, com- 
mented on every gesture and look of the unhappy prisoner ; 
each and all so wholly at variance with Anne's character and 
manner, that hatred alone could give credence to such vile 
tales. Instead of a woman remarkable for talent, education, 
and refinement — rare advantages in an age like that in which 
she lived — and with a quick apprehension of the peculiarities 
of those around her, and of ready wit, the conversations of 
Anne, while in prison, as represented by her spies and gaoler, 
betray a levity, giddiness, want of feeling for her own terrible 
position, and a total absence of self-respect and dignity, which 
accord perfectly with the gossiping style of talk of two 
uneducated and envious women, like those who reported it, 



ANNE BOLEYN. 303 

but which are wholly at variance with what might be 
expected from Anne Boleyn. 

The queen's love for music furnished another degrading 
charge against her ; for Smeaton, a low-born musician, was 
one of the men with whom she was accused of familiarity, 
because he had occasionally played on the virginals by her 
command. Such a charge must have naturally excited the 
liveliest indignation in the breast of any proud woman, but 
more especially in one who had worn a crown ; yet Anne is 
reported to have referred to this matter without anger or 
surprise! That she was fully aware that Lady Edward Boleyn 
and Mrs. Cosyns were placed as spies over her, is proved by 
her saying that "the king wist what he did when he put such 
women as those about her." And yet the assertions of these 
very persons as to what she said have found believers. Of 
all those who had offered adulation to Anne when she basked 
in the sunshine of her cruel husband's favor, Cranmer was 
the only one who attempted to speak in her defense, and Crom- 
well alone treated her with respect. 

Notwithstanding the bitter trials she had endured, there 
were moments when Anne's heart, touched by the key of 
memory, opened to hope ; and as she retraced the proofs of 
Henry's past love for her, she could not believe that one who so 
lately had all but adored her could will her death. "He does 
it to try me !" would she say, after one of these deep reveries 
into which she would sometimes fall, when her present misery 
seem but as a troubled dream, from which he would at last 
awake her. But when her most cruel enemy, Lady Rochford, 
was deputed by the king to convey a message to Anne, com- 
manding her to make a full confession of her guilt, hope fled 
from her for ever, and she prepared to meet her fate with 
dignity. Her last letter to the king was addressed to him 
soon after her interview with Lady Rochford, and bears 
reference to it ; and, although its being written by Anne has 
been doubted, she was so unassisted by friends during her 
imprisonment, that we may well believe in its authenticity, 
which is also borne out by its being a faithful transcript of 
her feelings and her wrongs. The dignified tone of this 
letter refutes the reported conversations held by Anne in 
prison with the spies placed over her, and elevates her 
character. 



304 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN's LAST LETTER TO KING HENRY. 

"Sir, — Your grace's displeasure, and my imprisonment, are things so 
strange un..o me, as what to write, or what to excuse, I am altogether 
ignorant. Whereas you send unto me (willing me to confess a truth, and 
so obtain your favor) by such an one whom you know to be mine 
ancient and professed enemy; I no sooner received this message by 
him* than I rightly conceived your meaning; and if, as you say, con- 
fessing a truth indeed may procure my safety, I shall with all willing- 
ness and duty perform your command. But let not your grace ever 
imagine that your poor wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a 
fault, where not so much as thought thereof preceded. And, to speak 
a truth, never prince had a wife more loyal in all duty, and in all affec- 
tion, than you have ever found in Anne Boleyn with which name and 
place I could willingly have contented myself, if God and your grace's 
pleasure had been so pleased. Neither did I at any time so far forget 
myself in my exaltation, or received queenship, but that I always looked 
for such an alteration as now I find ; for the ground of my preferment 
being on no surer ground than your grace's fancy, the least alteration, I 
knew, was fit and sufficient to draw that fancy to some other subject. 
You have chosen me from a low estate to be your queen and com- 
panion, far beyond my desert or desire. If, then, you found me worthy 
of such honor, good your grace, let not any light fancy, or bad 
counsel of mine enemies, withdraw your princely favor from me ; 
neither let that stain — that unworthy stain of a disloyal heart towards 
your good grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your most dutiful wife, and 
the infant princess, your daughter. Try me, good king, but let me have 
a lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as my accusers and 
judges; yea, let me receive an open trial, for my truth shall fear no open 
shame : then shall you see either my innocency declared — your suspi- 
cion and conscience satisfied — the ignominy and slander of the world 
stopped — or my guilt openly declared. So that, whatever God or you 
may determine of me, your grace may be freed from an open censure ; 
and mine offense being so carefully proved, your grace is at liberty, both 
before God and man, not only to execute worthy punishment on me as 
an unlawful wife, but to follow your affection, already settled on that 
party for whose sake I am now as I am, whose name I could, some 
good while since, have pointed unto ; your grace being not ignorant of 
my suspicion therein. But if you have already determined of me, and 
that not only my death, but an infamous slander, must bring you the 
enjoying of your desired happiness, then I desire of God that He will 
pardon your great sin therein, and likewise mine enemies, the instru- 
ment thereof, and that He will not call you to strict account for your 
unprincely and cruel usage of me, at His general judgment-seat, where 
both you and myself must shortly appear, and in whose judgment I 
doubt not, whatsover the world may think of me, mine innocence shall 
be openly known and sufficiently cleared. My last and only request 



*Who this person was is not known, or at least is not stated. Miss 
Strickland suggests that it must have been the Duke of Suffolk, but we 
incline to the belief it was Lady Rochford, and that the him ought, to 
be her. 



ANNE BOLEYN. 305 

shall be, that myself may only bear the burthen of your grace's dis- 
pleasure, and that it may not touch the innocent souls of those poor 
gentlemen, who, as I understand, are likewise in strait imprisonment 
for my sake. If ever I have found favor in your sight — if ever the 
name of Anne Boleyn hath been pleasing in your ears — then let me 
obtain this request ; and I will so leave to trouble your grace any farther, 
with mine earnest prayers to the Trinity to have your grace in His 
good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. 

"From my doleful prison in the Tower, this sixth of May, 
"Your most loyal and ever faithful wife, 

"Anne Boleyn/'* 

If Anne had any legal advisers, which is doubted, she was 
allowed no advocate, and was denied any intercourse with her 
friends or parents. Every exertion was used, by the king's 
desire, to obtain additional evidence against her, Smeaton 
alone having admitted the crime of which he was accused, 
and the belief of his perjury was general. Anne's women were 
tempted by promises of large reward if they would prove 
against her, and threatened with heavy punishment if they 
concealed her guilt ; but neither rewards nor menances could 
extort any proof of her culpability from them, and even the 
hateful Lady Rochford could bring no real evidence against 
her. 

On the 1 8th of May the queen and her brother, Lord Roch- 
ford, were brought to trial, in a hall within the Tower ; the 
Duke of Norfolk presided, with the Lord Chancellor on his 
right, and the Duke of Suffolk on his left. The Earl of 
Surrey, as Earl Marshal of England, was present, and the 
Duke of Richmond, and twenty-four other peers. The queen 
entered simply attired, and with no vestige of regal state. 
A hood shaded, but did not conceal her face, the expression 
of which was said to have never been more attractive than 
on this trying occasion, when a mingled sentiment of calm 
but deep sadness, increased rather than diminished, the mild 
dignity of her aspect. She was attended by Lady Edward 
Boleyn and Lady Kinston, neither of whom experienced the 
least sympathy for her. The queen bowed to the court, not 
with the shame or fear of a criminal before her judges, but 
with the modest confidence of a persecuted woman, certain of 
her own innocence, and in her secret soul appealing to. a 
higher tribunal— that of God. It was a terrible scene, and 



N Harleian Miscellany, vol i. p. 201. 



306 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

for the first time exhibited in England, to behold a queen 
openly charged with crimes, among which was one from 
which even the vilest of her sex would shrink with horror. 
While she listened to the disgusting accusations, often did 
the blush of wounded modesty stain her brow. The witnesses 
brought forward against her could prove nothing to criminate 
her. Their evidence, undefined and contradictory, could easily 
have geen rebutted, had Anne been allowed counsel, or had 
she not been prejudged. Smeaton, the vile and perjured 
craven, was not brought to confront her, for her foes dreaded 
the effect of her presence on him, on which she also counted, 
for she believed he must quail before her indignant glance. 

The prosecution ended, Anne commenced her own defense, 
and such was the effect produced by her simple but eloquent 
address, appealing no less to the common sense of all present 
than to their justice, that many believed she must be acquitted. 
Of all present, one only was impartial ; and how did his 
appearance, on that awful occasion, recall the past to the 
queen. This person was no other than Percy, the first, the 
sole lover of Anne, when, in her girlish days, she aspired to 
no greater ambition than to become his wife. Percy, now 
Earl of Northumberland, betrayed great agitation during the- 
trial, and before its termination quitted the court, alleging 
a sudden illness as the cause. When the sentence that she 
should be burnt or beheaded was pronounced, Anne uttered 
no cry, but, raising up her hands, exclaimed, — "O' Father! 
O Creator ! Thou are the way, and the truth, and the life ; Thou 
knowest that I have not deserved this death." Then turning 
to her judges, and fixing her eyes on her cruel uncle, the Duke 
oi Norfolk, she said : "My lord, I will not say that your sentence 
is unjust, nor presume that my appeal ought to be preferred 
to the judgment of you all. I believe you have reason and 
occasion of suspicion and jealousy, upon which you have con- 
demned me ; but they must be other than those produced here 
in court, for I am entirely innocent of all these accusations, 
so that I cannot ask pardon of God for them. I have been 
always a faithful and loyal wife to the king. I have not, 
perhaps, at all times, shown him that humility and reverence 
that his goodness to me, and the honor to which he has 
raised me, did deserve. I confess I have had fancies and 
suspicions of him, which I had not strength nor discretion to 
resist ; but God knows, and is my witness, that I tieyer iailed 



ANNE BOLEYN. 307 

otherwise toward him, and I shall never confess any other- 
wise." 

How unlike the address of a guilty woman, just condemned 
to a violent death, is this calm and dignified appeal ! 

The death of his victim was not sufficient to satisfy the 
hatred of the cruel and tyrannical Henry. She must encounter 
still sharper agony than a violent death could inflict, by the 
degredation of her child. He willed his marriage with Anne 
to be annulled even before death, then advancing with rapid 
strides, should release him from wedlock, in order that the 
illegitimacy of the infant Princess Elizabeth should preclude 
her from disputing the succession with any daughter to which 
Jane Seymour might give birth. The plea for this step was 
Anne's having been contracted to the Earl of Northumber- 
land previously to having wedded with him — a statement 
wholly untrue, and declared to be so by the Earl himself. 

On the 17th of May, Lord Rochford and the other accused 
persons were executed. Anne was made aware of this, but 
her mind was so wholly engrossed in preparations for her own 
approaching death, that the loss of a brother so fondly loved 
was looked on by her as only the departure on a journey 
of a dear friend, whom she would join a few hours later. Her 
prayers to God, before whom she was soon to be summoned 
were fervent and frequent, uninterrupted by the presence of 
any one dear to her ; no parting adieus shook hr courage or 
melted her heart. Of her child she thought with all a 
mother's tenderness, praying for her as a dying mother might ; 
and she earnestly entreated Lady Kingston to implore the 
Princess Mary to pardon any occasional slights which she had 
received from her. 

Those around her were no less edified than surprised at 
the resignation and fortitude which she maintained to the last. 
She approached the block with a calm countenance and a firm 
step, endeavoring to console her weeping followers, among 
whom was her early friend, the sister of Sir Thomas Wyatt, 
to whom she gave, as a parting gift, a small manuscript 
prayer-book, with a request to wear it ever in her breast as a 
memorial of undying affection. She besought her other 
attendants to forgive her if she had ever offended them ; and 
then, ascending the scaffold, is said to have addressed those 
around her as follows: "Friends and good Christian people, 
I am here in your presence to suffer death, whereto I 



308 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

acknowledge myself adjudged by law, how justly I will not 
say; I intend not an accusation of any one. I beseech the 
Almighty to preserve his Majesty long to reign over you. A 
more gentle or mild prince never swayed scepter ; his bounty 
toward me hath been special. If any one intend an inquisitive 
survey of my actions, I entreat them to judge favorably of me, 
and not rashly to admit any censorious act ; and so I bid the 
world farewell, beseeching you to commend me in your 
prayers to God." 

This address has been very properly doubted. Mr. Secre- 
tary Cromwell, whose son and heir was married to the sister 
of Jane Seymour, who had supplanted Anne in Henry's affec- 
tion, and who, though he owed his present greatness to her, 
was too much of a courtier to give her the least succor in her 
troubles, was present, and probably introduced the words about 
a gentle and mild prince to please his tyrant master. At all 
events those declarations are not more opposed to nature and 
honesty, than they are to her own words in her letter to the 
king of the 6th of May, that "he must hereafter expect to be 
called to a strict account for his treatment of her, if he took 
away her life on false and slanderous pretences." She spoke 
with an unfaltering voice and a calm countenance ; and then, 
uncovering her neck, she knelt down and prayed aloud, "To 
Jesus Christ I commend my soul!" She laid her head on the 
block, but is said by one account to have refused to have her 
eyes bandaged ; and that such was , the effect which their 
saint-like expression produced on her executioner, that he 
could not strike the fatal blow, until, by inducing some of his 
attendants to approach on her right side, he, taking off his 
shoes, noiselessly advanced on the left ; and Anne, hearing 
the steps on her right, turned her glance on that side, when 
the ax fell on that fair neck, and severed the head from it. 
A Portuguese gentleman, however, who was present, relates 
that her eyes were bandaged with a handkerchief by one of 
her ladies. A cry of grief and horror burst from the specta- 
tors when the head of the victim fell ; but it was hushed by 
the discharge of artillery, which made known the tragical 
catastrophe, and was the signal to Henry that he was free to 
wed Jane Seymour. 



JANE SEYMOUR, 

THIRD QUEEN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. 

If the ascent of Anne Boleyn to the throne of Henry the 
Eighth met with well-merited censure, as being purchased at 
the heavy cost of misery to that good and virtuous queen, 
Katharine of Arragon, whose repudiation, and the ingratitude, 
insults, and cruelties that preceded and followed it, broke the 
proud and loyal heart of the noble Spaniard, what can be said of 
the successor of the hapless Anne, Jane Seymour, who mounted 
the steps of the throne still" ensanguined with the warm life 
blood of her predecessor ? That blood — shed only the previous 
day, and shed that the selfish and cruel Henry might remove 
the only obstacle to the gratification of his passion for Jane 
Seymour — was hardly cold, when, forgetting all womanly feel- 
ing and decency, Jane plighted her troth to the widower of a day 
— the self-made widower, too ! — who had condemned his wife's 
head to the block. As Anne Boleyn had betrayed her mistress, 
Queen Katharine, and wiled away from her the affection of the 
king, so did Jane Seymour win from Anne the fickle heart of 
Henry, and, indifferent to the anguish she inflicted, and the 
violent death she must have known would follow, to make place 
for her on the throne, thought only of gratifying her own pride 
and ambition. 

Of all Henry's acts of cruelty — and they were neither "few 
nor far between" — there is no one more revolting than these 
bloodstained nuptials, the unseemly haste of which have led im- 
partial readers to disbelieve the crimes of which Anne Boleyn 
was accused, and to attribute the charges brought against her 
to Henry's desire for the possession of her unfeeling rival. 

Like Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour is said to have resided some 
years in the French court, and to have filled a similar position 
in the regal retinue of the Princess Mary of England, queen to 
Louis the Twelfth. A portrait of her in the royal collection at 
Versailles, simply labeled as maid of honor to that queen- ap- 

309 



310 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

pears to be the proof adduced of her residence in France ; and 
as this portrait is a pendant to one of Anne Boleyn, both painted 
by Holbein, and in similar habiliments, the evidence, if not quite 
conclusive, may be received as probable. 

Jane Seymour was the eldest of the eight children of Sir 
John Seymour, of Wolf Hall, Wiltshire. The Seymours were a 
country family of no particular distinction, though tracing them- 
selves from the Normans. The mother of Jane, however, a 
Wentworth, claimed a more ambitious descent, and an alliance 
with princely blood. Whether Henry really believed in the 
truth of this claim, disputed by able genealogists, or that he 
wished to give distinction to the object of his choice, certain 
it is that he applied for and obtained a dispensation, on the 
ground of kindred, for his marriage with his third queen. It 
was not only on this occasion that Henry sought to make it ap- 
pear that the object of his affection had claim to royal blood, 
for when he ennobled Anne Boleyn by creating her Marchioness 
of Pembroke, he took care that the patent should contain an al- 
lusion to this point, by its stating that a sovereign should sur- 
round his throne with many peers, the worthiest of both sexes, 
especially those who are of royal blood. There is no doubt 
this creation was but a preface to the regal dignity to which he 
was bent on elevating her, and the terms of the patent a sort of 
excuse to his subjects for the inequality of the future queen he 
meant to give them ; for, blinded as he was by his passion, he 
could not but be sensible that his wedding a subject must give 
dissatisfaction. How must the heart of the unfortunate Anne 
Boleyn have trembled and her conscience smote her, when she 
discovered that one of her own maids of honor was enacting 
toward her the treacherous part that she had played toward 
her royal mistress Katharine ! And yet, although both Anne 
and Jane were alike culpable in listening to the guilty vows of a 
married man — the husband, too, of their good queen — Anne 
Boleyn was less blameable than Jane, for Anne sought not the 
love of Henry — nay, more, retired from the court to avoid it, 
and had it not been for the efforts and interference of Cardinal 
Wolsey, urged on by Henry, would have become the wife of 
Percy, the object of her affection. Long did she cherish this 
passion, and resist all the vows with which Henry pursued her, 
while Jane Seymour secretly laid herself out to attract the king 
and win him from Queen Anne, conscious, as she must have 
been, of the destruction it must bring down on her unhappy 
mistress. It is said, that such faith did Anne place in the love 



JANE SEYMOUR. 311 

of the king, that no suspicion of his growing tenderness for an- 
other dawned on her mind until the fearful truth broke on it by 
detecting her rival in so familiar a position with Henry, and so 
unresistingly receiving his caresses, that no doubt could be left 
that this habit of dalliance had been of some date. Other au- 
thors assert that the discovery was made by Anne's seeing a val- 
uable ornament worn by Jane, which, wishing to examine more 
closely, Jane betrayed so much embarrassment, that the queen, 
growing suspicious, snatched it, and found it to contain the 
portrait of the king; but we incline to the first statement. The 
queen was then about to become a mother and such was the 
shock her frame sustained by the discovery of the infidelity of 
her husband that the consequences took place which are re- 
corded in the life of that queen. 

Henry is said to have waited beneath a tree in Richmond 
Park, where he sought shade from the sun, surrounded by his 
train, on the morning of the 19th of May, 1536, when the sound 
of the gun that announced the severing of the beautiful head he 
had once doted on from the fair body so fondly prized, struck 
on his eager ear, which thirsted for the signal that he was free. 
He uttered an exclamation of joy, commanded the hounds to be 
let loose, the chase to commence, and took the route toward 
Wolf Hall, where his future bride awaited his presence. Did no 
shudder pass over her frame when she greeted the self-made 
widower ? Did her hand not tremble when it met the clasp of 
that which had so lately signed the death warrant of Anne 
Boleyn ? Had she no womanly thought of how often she had 
beheld that hand fondle her late mistress, whom he once loved 
so passionately ? Such thoughts, we fear, were far from Jane 
Seymour at that meeting. She saw in her burly lover but the 
instrument to crown her ambition, him who was to elevate her 
to the throne she longed to ascend. 

The following morning Henry led her to the altar in the 
parish church nearest her father's seat in Wiltshire, where the 
nuptials were solemnized, in the presence of several of the king's 
favorites. After the wedding feast the party proceeded to Mar- 
well, a residence wrested from the church by Henry and granted 
to the Seymours. Thence they went to Winchester, where, 
after remaining a few days, they directed their course to Lon- 
don, where, on the 29th of May, Jane was presented as queen to 
her subjects. Loud were the congratulations, and exaggerated 
the compliments lavished on the bride and bridegroom by their 
obsequious courtiers on this occasion ; and, when parliament 



312 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

opened, a short time after, the Lord Chancellor Audley, not con- 
tent with noticing; the recent marriage of his sovereign with all 
due respect, lavished on him the most fulsome panegyric as a 
victim to circumstances connected with his two former mar- 
riages, and extravagant laudation for a third time entering the 
bonds of wedlock, trying to make it appear that Henry did so 
solely for the good of his kingdom, and not to satisfy his own 
inclination. Audley referred, with an unfeeling and indelicate 
openness, to the guilt of Anne Boleyn, evincing, by so doing, 
that he was well aware of the gross mind of his ferocious mas- 
ter, for surely decency ought to have taught him to avoid all 
mention of her. He moved that the infant Princess Elizabeth, 
daughter of the ill-fated Anne, should be declared illegitimate ; 
as also had been the Princess Mary, daughter of the ill-used 
Katharine of Arragon ; and that the crown should devolve on 
the children, male or female, of the new queen, Jane Seymour. 
Low indeed must have been the state of morals, and terrible the 
dread inspired by the gross sensualist Henry, when a lord 
chancellor could thus outrage common decency and truth, in 
presence of parliament, without one voice being raised in dis- 
sent to his falsehoods ! He must have known the moral degrad- 
ation of those he was addressing, to count on. not merely their 
toleration, but their approbation. 

jane Seymour had acquired wisdom by the example furnished 
during the reign of her unhappy predecessor. Without the 
natural gayety and ready wit so apt to encroach on the dignity 
of a queen, and so dangerous in the wife of a moody and sus- 
picious husband, for which Anne Boleyn was so remarkable, 
Jane was not tempted into any of those levities and repartees 
which the possession of these fascinating qualities but too often 
induces. Calm and discrete, no less by acquired prudence than 
by natural temperament, she observed a dignified and queen- 
like demeanor, equally removed from haughtiness and familiar- 
ity. If she captivated few, she offended none, but pursued the 
even tenor of her way, satisfied with her high estate, and by no 
means disposed to do aught that could risk its loss by incurring 
the displeasure of her lord and master. Little can be recorded 
of a woman so discrete and cautious as Jane during the brief 
period she filled the place vacated by the death of Anne Boleyn. 
She took no part in political intrigues, leaned to no party ; and 
although the sister of the ambitious Somerset, never allowed 
herself to be made the instrument to work out any of his designs. 
The eighteen months' of her regal life were passed in a manner 



JANE SEYMOUR. 313 

utterly obsequious to the king, and the fear of that ax which 
had fallen on her predecessor. No word or sentence of hers was 
of sufficient merit to be recorded ; the only official act to which 
her signature is appended is the order for the delivery of two 
bucks to the keeper of the chapel royal ; and one of the most re- 
markable facts of her short reign was riding on horseback, with 
the king and court, across the Thames at Greenwich in the 
severe frost of January, 1537. She is said to have behaved with 
great kindness to the Princess Mary, and to have won Henry to 
tolerate her. Of the helpless infant Elizabeth, then in her 
fourth year, historians give us no reason to believe that she 
took any notice, although the position of the poor child might 
well excite commiseration and sympathy, stripped of the title 
of Princess of Wales, which she had borne since her birth, and 
deprived of a mother by a violent death. Jane could not have 
been deterred from showing kindness to the child by any dread 
of offending her stern husband, for Henry had Elizabeth 
brought up under his own eye, and invariably evinced great af- 
fection for her, while toward her elder half-sister he behaved 
with coldness, if not dislike, angered by her long resistance to 
sign the acknowledgment of his supremacy, the renunciation of 
the power of the pope, the invalidity of the marriage of her 
mother with Henry, and consequently the illegitimacy of her 
own birth. It cannot be wondered at that the Princess Mary, 
then of an age to comprehend her own position, objected to 
sign articles alike contrary to her conscience and interest, until 
finding that nothing else would conciliate her hard-hearted and 
stubborn father, she was compelled to yield. Perhaps it was 
to this obedience to Henry's wishes, rather than to the queen's 
interference in her favor that she owed her toleration by him, 
even though Jane Seymour gave proofs of kindness toward 
her, for which Mary expressed her sense of gratitude not only 
by applying the endearing epithet of mother to her, but by pray- 
ing God to grant her a prince — a prayer the sincerity of which 
we cannot help doubting, as its fulfillment must shut out herself 
from her chance of the throne. 

Unlike her two predecessors, Jane Seymour was never 
crowned. This ceremony had been postponed owing to the 
plague, then prevalent in London, and most of all in West- 
minster, where it greatly raged ; and when its violence had 
abated, the queen was in a state that promised to give Henry 
the longed-for heir, and rendered him fearful of exposing her 
to the fatigue of a coronation. On the 12th of October, 1537* 



314 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Jane gave birth to Prince Edward, in Hampton Court Palace, 
an event which filled the king with transport, and consequently 
delighted his courtiers. His joy was manifested by noisy hilar- 
ity, and theirs by an affectation of irrepressible rapture. 

This turbulent joy, however gratifying to the newly-made 
mother's feelings, was very injurious to her in the weak state 
to which she had been reduced, and the christening, which fol- 
lowed only three days after, from appearing at a portion of 
which splendid but tedious ceremony she was not exempted, 
proved too much for her exhausted frame. This solemn rite 
took place at midnight in the chapel of Hampton Court, with 
all the etiquette peculiar to such occasions, and when concluded, 
the infant prince was borne back to receive the benediction of 
his mother, attended by a stately procession, heralded by loud 
clarions, and as loud shouts of rejoicing — a terrible trial to the 
queen in her state of languor, and from the effects of which she 
never recovered. In twelve days after her confinement she re- , 
signed her breath, ere yet satiety had weaned from her the affec- 
tion of her fickle husband, and while he was still rejoicing 
in his new-born heir. Henry, albiet unused to give way to 
grief, evinced some natural sorrow for his lost queen. He wore 
mourning for three months, an honor he never paid to any of 
'her predecessors or successors, and his courtiers observed the 
same etiquette. All respect and honors were shown to the re- 
mains of the departed queen. Every insignia of royalty was 
used to. attest her dignity; innumerable masses were offered 
up for the repose of her soul, and, after lying in state till the 
12th of November, her body was removed, attended by a grand 
funeral procession, from Hampton Court to Windsor for inter- 
ment, where it was laid in the vault of St. George's Chapel. In 
the will of Henry, directions were found inserted that the bones 
of his "loving Queen Jane" were to be placed in his tomb — in- 
structions which were faithfully carried into effect. 



ANNE OF CLEVES. 

The character of Anne of Cleves differs from that of the 
greater number of English queens. Neither distinguished for 
her personal beauty nor brilliancy of talent, our attention is 
arrested by a queen who was gifted with such an extraordinary 
serenity of mind, such indifference or insensibility to the gifts 
of fortune, whichever it might be, as to assume a regal diadem 
without ostentation, and to relinquish it without a sigh. One 
is naturally interested in investigating the history of such 
an individual ; and though the particulars of Anne's life prior 
to her marriage with Henry the Eighth, have not been much 
dwelt on by historians, the little which has reached us is not 
unworthy of notice. 

Anne, whose father was John, the third Duke of Cleves, 
was born September 22d, 15 17, and educated with her sisters 
Sybilla and Amelia, under the care of their mother Marie, a 
daughter of William, Duke of Juliers, Berg and Ravensburg. 
The young princesses were brought up in the Lutheran faith, 
but though well instructed in reading and writing their own 
language, they were ignorant of any other. We are also 
informed they were very skillful in needlework, but that music 
and dancing were not suffered to constitute a part of their 
studies, it being the opinion of their country that such pur- 
suits only tended to lightness and frivolity of character. 

Even during the lifetime of her father, Anne had been sought 
in marriage by her future husband, King Henry, who after 
vainly endeavoring to form an alliance with some French 
princess, whose high birth would consolidate his own dignity 
and security, had turned his thoughts to those ladies who were 
nearly related to the Smalcaldic League. In fact, Henry had 
found the utmost difficulty in procuring a wife among foreign 
princesses. He had an evil reputation for a husband, which, 
though it did not daunt Englishwomen, certainly made foreign 
ladies shrink aghast. After the divorce of one wife, the 

3'5 



316 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

beheading" of a second, and the speedy death of his third, not 
even a throne could tempt a princess of any pretensions to 
accept the hand of the tyrant, now no longer young. He had 
tried all his eloquence in vain at the French court, and the 
witty Duchess Dowager of Milan had refused with the very 
natural but cutting remark, that "she had but one head, and 
could not afford to lose it !" Cromwell in a luckless hour for 
himself, proposed the Princess Anne of Cleves, and Henry 
having yielded a ready assent, a treaty was entered into with 
Duke John. Many impediments however delaying the con- 
clusion of this, it was finally arranged by Duke William, Anne's 
brother, after his father's death, in spite of the strong opposi- 
tion raised by the Elector of Saxony who had married her 
sister Sybilla. 

Although policy was the basis of this marriage, the ideas of 
Henry relative to the sex were so peculiarly delicate, that he 
was excessively desirous to behold the object of his choice, 
and Hans Holbein was appointed to paint the portrait of Anne 
to satisfy his curiosity. This minature was enclosed in a box 
of ivory, delicately carved, in the form of a white rose. It 
unscrewed in two places ; in one of which appeared the por- 
trait of Henry, and in the other that of Anne of Cleves. Both 
box and minatures were exquisite works of art, and they are 
still preserved at Goodrich Court, in the collection of articles 
of high historic value made by the late Sir Samuel Meyrick. 
A tall robust woman had been portrayed to the mind of the 
English king as his future wife;, and no sooner had he beheld 
the portrait than he gave orders for Anne instantly to com- 
mence her journey to England. It is impossible to describe in 
the narrow limits here allotted, the royal progress of the 
princess from Dusseldorf. Anne quitted her native city of 
Dusseldorf in the month of October, 1539. She traveled on 
the first day as far as Berg, a distance of twenty English miles ; 
her next stage was from Berg to Cleve, thence to Ravenstein. 
after that to Berlingburg, Tilburg, Haggenstrete, and then to 
Antwerp, at which place four miles from the town, she was 
met by many English merchants attired in velvet coats with 
chains of gold. On entering the town itself, Anne, was 
received "with twice fourscore torches, beginning in the day- 
light," and so brought to her English lodging, where she was 
honorably received, and open house kept for he: and for 
her train during one day. The following morning she was 



ANNE OF CLEVES. 317 

conducted to Stetkyn by the English merchants, who departed 
after having presented a gift to the future queen, who con- 
tinued her progress through Tokyn, Burges, Oldenburg, New- 
port, Dunkirk, and Gravelines to Calais, where she arrived on 
the nth of December. As she approached that place, Lord Lisle, 
lieutenant of the castle, and Sir George Carew, with a gallant 
train of noblemen and gentlemen, met her and escorted her into 
Calais, under a royal salute of artillery from the vessels sta- 
tioned there, which was echoed by the ordnance along the 
coast. 

Anne, detained by adverse winds, remained twenty days at 
Calais, during which she was courteously entertained. She 
sailed from Calais December 27, 1539, attended by a fleet of fifty 
sail, and had so favorable a passage that she landed at Deal the 
same day at 5 o'clock, and proceeded to Walmer Castle, where 
she met with a regal welcome. She next proceeded to Dover, 
and thence to Canterbury. At Rochester, Henry, who had 
privately repaired to the town in the height of his anxiety to 
behold his bride-elect, obtained a private view of the princess 
which overwhelmed him with vexation and disappointment. 
Tall indeed and of striking proportions, Anne was beyond 
doubt, but so plain and deficient in grace and dignity that in the 
excessive mortification of the moment the king exclaimed, "they 
had brought him a great Flanders mare, whom he could not 
possibly love." To complete his annoyance Anne spoke only the 
German language, of which he was entirely ignorant. An in- 
terview with the king himself and did not prepossess Anne much 
more in his favor. Henry brought with him a paillet of sable 
skins for her neck and a rich muff and tippet for "a new year's 
gift," and had even sent to say so, but so destitute did he con- 
sider the lady of beauty that he would not present them with his 
own hand, but left them to be conveyed to Anne next day by 
Sir Anthony Brown. Returning to Greenwich he lamented his 
hard fate in pathetic terms without receiving any consolation 
from his courtiers, who remarked that kings could not, like their 
subjects, act to please themselves, but their choice must be by 
necessity guided by others. A council was actually called to 
consider if by any possibility Anne could be restored to her 
friends without the marriage being completed, but for reasons 
of state the king durst not affront her family. The king had 
heard of a sort of prior contract between Anne and Francis, 
son of the Duke of Lorraine, and hoped to take advantage of this 
to break off the match, but the ambassadors of the Duke of 



318 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Cleves, on the subject being named to them, offered to produce a 
formal renunciation of the contract, which would be in fact an 
absolute release. Thus no hope of escape was left, and Henry 
was compelled with reluctance to close the affair with Anne, re- 
marking, "that as matters had gone so far, he must even put his 
neck into the collar." 

Anne meantime awaited Henry's commands at Dartford. The 
king having decided to marry her even against his will, made 
a public announcement that Anne should be met and welcomed 
as queen at Greenwich, and at that place five or six thousand 
horsemen assembled for a procession, where Henry and the 
ambassador of the emperor joined them. Anne of Cleves first 
met Henry in public on the plain of Blackheath, near Shooters' 
Hill, whence with all the pegeantry of pompous state she was 
conducted to Greenwich, where the ceremony of her marriage 
was performed on January 6, with the splendor befitting the oc- 
casion. 

Shortly afterward, Cromwell, who had been so zealous to 
bring about this match, inquired of Henry with no small anx- 
iety whether he liked his queen better? A decided negative was 
the reply, to which were added many unpleasant remarks re- 
specting the queen. After this, although Henry was civil out- 
wardly to Anne, and apparently treated his minister with his 
former confidence, such was his real displeasure at the marriage 
that led ultimately to the ruin of this minister, who, worthy 
of a better fate, was tried, condemned and executed. 

After Cromwell's death Henry's dislike to Anne was more 
openly evinced. On the 12th of April her dower had been 
settled by the parliament, by which her legal rights as Queen 
Consort were acknowledged. Not long after, her foreign at- 
tendants were dismissed. Anne seems, therefore, to have been 
left quite at the mercy of Henry's caprice, who did not scruple 
to outrage her feelings. It almost appears as if the death of 
^romwell was designed to deprive her of his service and friend 
ship, for Anne had appeared to seek his counsel on more than 
one occasion, which Cromwell abstained from giving from pru- 
dential motives. The last appearance of the king and queen 
in public together was at Durham House on the occasion of 
some splendid pageants given in honor of their marriage by Sir 
Thomas Seymour, Sir John Dudley and Sir George Carew in 
the month of May. After Cromwell's arrest Anne was sent to 
Richmond by Henry on pretense that she needed the country 
air. Henry indeed was bent upon separating himself legally 



ANNE OF CLEVES. 319 

from an object so distasteful to him. This intention was known 
to the house of parliament, who prayed him to allow his mar- 
riage to be examined, and a convocation being summoned par- 
ticulars of the transaction were laid before it. As an excuse 
for a divorce, Henry again alleged that a prior contract had 
.been made for Anne by her father to the Duke of Lorraine at 
the time she was in her minority, although this had afterward 
been annulled by the consent of both parties. Moreover, that 
in marrying Anne himself he had not inwardly given his con- 
sent, nor had he thought proper to consummate the marriage. 
These reasons being esteemed satisfactory, the union of Henry 
and Anne was annulled, and the decision ratified by the parlia- 
ment. 

The conduct of Anne, under the trying circumstances in 
which she was placed, does great honor both to her head and her 
heart. During the short period she lived with Henry she seems 
to have assjduously endeavored to please him, and is said to have 
taken especial pains in acquiring a knowledge of the English 
language, knowing how uncongenial the "high Dutch" was to 
the ears of her capricious tyrant. The king's character was, 
however, but too obvious during even her short acquaintance 
with him ; the fate of Katharine of Arragon and Anne Boleyn 
had served Anne as an example. With calmness and dignity 
she received the intimation of her sentence. So placid was her 
manner on the occasion, as to induce a belief that her heart was 
destitute of feeling. That was not the case, however, but clearly 
Henry had never tried, and certainly had not gained her af- 
fections, and she resigned her ties with him without regret, so 
readily, that the vanity of Henry was sensibly mortified. She 
yielded a ready assent to the propositions made by him, that 
she should be treated as an adopted sister, and next to the queen 
or his daughter, enjoy the honors of precedence. These condi- 
tions, with the still more weightv assurance of an annual settle- 
ment of £3,000, procured her willing assent to the proposed di- 
vorce. There was, however, one point on which Anne testified 
some spirit. She had quitted her native country as Queen of 
England, and would not return thither under any inferior dig- 
nity. The residue of her days she accordingly passed in Eng- 
land. 

Anne was Queen of England only six months, and ere her 
divorce from Henry, his fickle heart had formed an attachment 
to Katharine Howard, who was destined to supply her place on 



320 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

his throne. During the short period that Anne was Henry's 
wife, she certainly did study to please the capricious lord in 
whose power she had become placed by destiny. Even before 
her divorce was announced, she had made herself mistress of the 
English tongue, and soon after adopted the style of dress of her 
new countrywomen. After the divorce, however, was carried 
out, Anne sunk into apparent insignificance, "no more being said 
of her than if she were dead." Yet the accounts of contempor- 
aries show that she passed her time in a quiet and pleasant 
domesticity, extremely beloved wherever she was known, and 
truly kind to the poor. She possessed at first the manor of 
Bletchingly, which was afterward exchanged for that of 
Penshurst. Her time, at some seasons, was passed at Rich- 
mond, at others at Ham or Dartford, and she maintained her 
intimacy with the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth. She sur- 
vived her mother's death, which took place A. D. 1543, and 
that of the fickle-minded Henry the Eighth, who .terminated 
his existence in 1547. Katharine Howard's death must have 
caused Anne's tranquil heart to shudder at her own narrow 
escape ; and the king's subsequent marriage with Katherine 
Parr would further enlighten her upon her own good fortune 
of exemption from the caprices of so variable a character. She 
survived the young Edward the Sixth, and attended the coro- 
nation of Mary, on which occasion the Princess Elizabeth rode 
in her carriage in the royal cavalcade. The death of Anne of 
Cleves took place at her palace at Chelsea, July the 16th, 1557, 
in the fourth year of Mary's reign, and the forty-first of her 
own age ; and her funeral was solemnized in Westminster 
Abbey with royal splendor by the queen's orders. 

At the feet of King Sebert, the original founder of the edi- 
fice, lies the last remains of a queen who certainly merited 
better treatment ; for although not gifted with the mental at- 
tainments of Katharine of Arragon, the graces of Anne Boleyn, 
or of Jane Seymour, she possessed qualities which were calcu- 
lated to adorn her station had they not been blunted by adverse 
circumstances and the will of an imperious and arbitrary 
tyrant. 



KATHARINE HOWARD. 

Queen Katharine Howard, Henry the Eighth's fifth consort, 
was sprung from the imperial house of Charlemagne, being the 
descendant of the lovely and amiable Adelais of Louvaine. 
Singularly enough, she was also cousin-german of Anne 
Boleyn. 

Lord Edmund Howard, father of the queen, had distin- 
guished himself at the battle of Flodden Field, and received, 
as a recompense, the forfeited Dukedom of Norfolk, with 
the honor of knighthood. By his wife Jocosa, daughter of 
Sir Richard. Culpepper, of Hollingbourn, in Kent, he had a 
numerous family. Katharine was his fifth child, and supposed 
to be born about 1522. After the death of Jocosa, Lord 
Howard married Lady Dorothy Troyes. The loss of a mother 
in her tender infancy, was Katharine's first misfortune; the 
second, was her removal, on the death of her grandfather, Lord 
Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, to the care of his widow, Agnes 
Tylney. This lady greviously neglected the important trust 
reposed in her, and suffered Katharine to associate freely 
with her waiting-women, whose apartment she shared. These 
persons unhappily were of a most abandoned character; and 
thus early thrown into immediate association with vice, it 
was no wonder that the events transpired which threw after- 
ward a dark cloud over the brightness of the illustrious house 
to which she owed her origin. 

Encouraged by the female attendants of her grandmother, 
Katharine, at the early age of thirteen, was induced to give 
encouragement to the presuming addresses of Henry Manox, 
a performer on the virginals, who had been attracted by her 
youthful beauty while employed as her instructor, during 
her stay at Horsham, in Norfolk. With this man, who was of 
a very profligate character, Katharine had several stolen 
interviews; but her attachment, if such it could be called, 
was interrupted by her guardian's removal to Lambeth, on 



322 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the occasion of the coronation of Anne Boleyn, Katharine's 
cousin, and the christening of the infant Princess Elizabeth, 
which took place A. D. 1533. There Katharine commenced 
another acquaintance equally derogatory to her high birth 
and dignity, with Francis Derham, a gentleman employed in 
the service of her uncle the Duke of Norfolk. Derham, being 
a favorite with the aged duchess, aspired to the hand of 
the lovely girl thus unhappily thrown in his way, and to whose 
society he found no difficulty in gaining access, surrounded, as 
she still was, by her grandmother's household. 

The artful Derham contrived to insinuate himself so far 
into Katharine's regard as to obtain an exchange of love- 
tokens. He effected this by aiding her in her necessity for 
money to purchase various articles of female finery, which, 
though coveted by the young and rising beauty, were beyond 
her reach. So grateful was Katharine for his attention, that 
she actually yielded her consent to become his affianced wife. 
Such an acknowledgment was then considered binding, and 
even now would in Scotland be esteemed a lawful marriage. 
Katharine consented that Derham should address her as his 
"wife," and agreed to give to him the name of "husband." 
After this Derham was privately admitted into the society of 
his betrothed ; his presents to her continued to be received, 
and, on his departure on a distant expedition, all his money 
was entrusted to her care ! Alas ! how tangled a web was 
fast weaving round the footsteps of England's future queen ! 

When the aged grandmother of Katharine, who had blindly 
been the cause of all this injury to her young relative by 
her own utter neglect, was made at last acquainted with what 
had been going on under her roof, such was her indignation 
that she is said to have vented it in "blows" on Katharine, but 
Derham was beyond her power. 

The matter was concealed from scrutiny for the sake of 
the illustrious house, on which a member had brought shame 
and sorrow. The wretches who had led their young charge 
into so perilous a path were discharged from the service of 
the old duchess, and Katharine herself was placed under a 
severe personal restraint. The salutary effect of this change 
of treatment soon became obvious by an alteration in her own 
conduct ; for from that time, in her progress toward maturity, 
she improved in every feminine grace, accompanied by that 
modest reserve which should be woman's natural inheritance. 



KATHARINE HOWARD. 323 

When, therefore, Derham privately sought to renew his inter- 
course with her, he found that an insurmountable barrier 
existed in the altered feelings of the young lady herself. For 
the present, therefore, he returnd to Ireland. 

Henry the Eighth is supposed to have first me°t Katharine 
Howard at a banquet soon after his union with Anne of 
Cleves. The contrast with the phlegmatic queen he had 
selected made the loveliness of the opening beauty yet more 
conspicuous, and the conquest was complete. Katharine was 
speedily appointed maid of honor to Queen Anne, and is 
said to have attracted notice for her propriety of conduct in 
this new office, in which capacity she certainly acted more 
conscientiously than either Anne Boleyn or Jane Seymour had 
done toward their royal mistress of that day. As a matter 
of course, the divorce of Henry followed this new attachment, 
and within a few days or hours after that event was publicly 
announced, the king was privately united to Katharine Howard, 
who in the following month was publicly introduced at Hamp- 
ton Court as his queen. After this she accompanied her hus- 
band to Windsor, and was his companion in a royal progress 
through the country. 

Nothing could exceed the fondness of Henry for his new 
consort, whom historians describe as beautiful in person and 
graceful in demeanor, while her exceedingly youthful and 
childish manners added fresh charms in the eyes of her royal 
spouse. She acquired the king's entire confidence, which was 
extended to her whole family ; and, so desirous was Henry to 
exhibit his private happiness to the nation, that he gave orders 
that a solemn public thanksgiving should be offered up to 
heaven, for the blessing bestowed on him in such a wife ! The 
blissful dream of his love was not, however, destined to be 
of long endurance. The very day following that ceremony, 
Cranmer forwarded to him the particulars of Katharine's 
early life, which have already been disclosed to the reader. 
These had been communicated to the prelate during the late 
royal progress into the North, and had the effect of drawing 
tears from the eyes of the hitherto enraptured and happy Henry ! 

The dreadful discovery of Katharine's guilt was brought 
about by the persons who had early implicated her in crime. The 
women who had been her first associates, and were acquainted 
with every particular of her infancy, finding her elevated 
to the regal dignity, made use of this information to secure 



324 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

their own advancement. Thus Katharine, entirely at their 
mercy, was forced to receive their communications ; and her- 
self, ignorant of the art of writing, was compelled to admit 
Francis Derham into her household as her own private secre- 
tary, to prevent exposures of the letters they addressed to her. 
Lady Rochford, the*very person whose intrigues had been the 
ruin of her cousin, Queen Anne Boleyn, was moreover Kathar- 
ine's principal lady in waiting; through her intervention 
Katharine had a long interview with her relative Thomas Cul- 
pepper, whose object seems to have been to expostulate with 
her on her imprudence in admitting Derham again into her 
confidence, but who from the lateness of the hour selected 
became involved in the suspicions attached to Katharine. 

After the first burst of passion and indignation, Henry 
summoned his council, and caused the persons from whom the 
information which implicated Katharine had been received, 
to be strictly questioned. After this, the criminal parties were 
apprehended, when Derham confessed boldly "that a promise 
of marriage had been exchanged between himself and the queen, 
many years previous to her union with the king ; that they 
had lived as man and wife while he was in the service of 
her grandmother, the Duchess of Norfolk ; that they were 
regarded in that light among the servants in the family; that 
he was accustomed to call her wife, and that she had often 
called him husband, before witnesses ; that they had exchanged 
gifts and love-tokens frequently, in those days ; and that he 
had given her money whenever he had it." Since Katharine's 
marriage with the king, he solemnly denied that any familiarity 
had taken place between them. 

The king's feelings may be imagined, at finding that the 
idolized Katharine was so entirely unworthy of his affection. 
He would not encounter an interview with her, nor send any 
message ; but the council in a body waited on her, to inform 
her of what had occurred. Katharine vehemently asserted her 
innocence ; but, on being left to herself, fell into fits, which 
were so violent as to endanger her life. Afterward, when 
she found the testimony of others had made it fruitless to 
deny her guilt, she signed a full confession, upon which she 
. was attainted, together with Lady Rochford, of high treason, 
by an act of Parliament, which also declared most of her 
family guilty of misprison of treason. This act contained the 
extraordinary clause, that if in future the king, or any of his 



KATHARINE HOWARD. 3^5 

successors, should marry a lady in whose character any flaw- 
existed, any person knowing such to be the case, should incur 
the same penalty; while the lady herself, for concealing her 
fault, would likewise be declared guilty of high treason. This 
law, was, however, repealed in the following year. 

The degraded queen had been removed from Hampton 
Court to Sion House, and thence was afterward conveyed to 
the Tower, where she passed one night, that which preceded 
her execution. 

Derham, Manox and Culpepper had been executed imme- 
diately after their confession, and their heads were placed 
over London Bridge. During the interval between the dis- 
covery of the queen's guilt and her punishment, the aged 
Duchess of Norfolk was committed to prison, where grief and 
terror caused her to be seized by a dangerous illness. She 
was, however, as well as the other members of her family, 
finally pardoned after the death of her grandchild. Katharine 
learnt in succession all these sad particulars, during the brief 
interval that preceded her own fate. The Duke of Norfolk, 
her uncle, was her only surviving friend who could have 
averted her doom by exertions in her behalf, but she had 
offended him, and he abandoned her in the hour of anguish, 
as he had done his other niece, Anne Boleyn, and various others 
of his relatives. 

The royal assent to the attainder of Katharine Howard 
having been obtained, the queen was conducted to the scaffold 
on the 13th of February; that same scaffold on which Anne 
Boleyn, no less beautiful than herself, had recently suffered 
death. Lady Rochford was the companion of Katharine, and 
suffered with her ; a just retribution for her conduct towards 
Anne. The queen received the fatal stroke with a composure 
which in the minds of some of the witnesses led to the belief 
of her innocence, and Lady Rochford imitated the demeanor 
of her mistress. As soon as the execution of the sentence was 
over the mangled body of Katharine was removed without 
funereal honors, and deposited near the remains of her equally 
unfortunate predecessor in the affections of Henry — Queen 
Anne Boleyn — within the walls of the Tower. 

Thus died King Henry's fifth wife, who, notwithstanding her 
early failings, appears clearly to have been guiltless of any 
of the crimes against the king which were laid to her charge. 
She was put to death without trial, and in violation of all 



326 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the constitutional safeguards of human life which had been 
raised by the laws of England against the evil passions of 
tyrants. But no such tyrant as Henry the Eighth ever polluted 
any throne. His character has been admirably drawn by Sir 
Walter Raleigh, — "If all the patterns of a merciless tyrant," 
he observes, "had been lost to the world, they might have been 
found in this prince." 



KATHARINE PARR, 

SIXTH QUEEN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. 

Katharine Parr, although not of a noble, was of a very 
ancient descent, connected by both her parents with some of 
the noblest families in England, and even with royalty itself. 
She inherited the blood of the Saxon kings, as well as that 
of the great houses of Neville, Earls of Westmoreland, the 
Marmions, Champions of England, and others of nearly 
equal dignity. Her relationship was, therefore, much clearer 
than that of Henry the Eighth with some of his former 
queens for whom he claimed the distinction, although in this 
instance he did not deem a dispensation from the pope neces- 
sary, on the ground of' consanguinity. Katharine Parr, who is 
said to have been born in 1513, lost her father when not more 
than five years old; but this loss was little injurious to her 
future welfare, for her mother, a domestic and sensible woman, 
bestowed such pains on her education as to fully cultivate 
her abilities, which, even while yet in childhood, gave proof 
that they were of no ordinary stamp. It is pleasing to look 
back on the domestic picture of the fair and youthful widow, 
Lady Parr, surrounded by her three children, two daughters 
and a son, to whom she devoted all her thoughts and time in 
the tranquil solitude of the country-seat bequeathed to her 
by her husband, while yet young enough — being only in her 
twenty-second year when her husband died — to entertain 
projects of 'forming another marriage. 

Under the care of this excellent lady, and with the tuition 
of those capable of instructing her, Katharine Parr acquired 
a knowledge, not only of the usual rudiments of female educa- 
tion, but of ancient and modern languages. Far from con- 
sidering her studies as a wearisome task, she applied to them 
with a diligence which proved her pleasure in them, and 
her maturity bore plentiful fruits of her industry and love of 
learning. 

3*7 



328 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Katharine married at a very early age the Lord Borough, 
a descendant of the de Burghs, celehrated in the reign of 
Henry the Third by the prominent part taken by one of its 
members, Hubert de Burgh, Earl of Kent, in the transactions 
of those troubled times. Many years the senior of his youthful 
bride, and with children by a former marriage older than she, 
Lord Borough found no cause to regret having chosen a 
wife of such tender age. They are said to have lived har- 
moniously during their union, and he died when she was only 
in her sixteenth year, leaving her a large dowry, which, 
added to her personal charms and cultivation of mind, rendered 
her one of the most attractive women in England ; no wonder, 
then, that she had many suitors. Lord Latimer, although past 
his youth, and twice a widower, was the preferred ; nor can 
this preference be attributed to mercenary motives, for 
Katharine's own fortune precluded these, though the vast 
wealth and noble seats of Lord Latimer might have tempted 
a less-richly dowered bride. Lord Latimer was the father 
of a son and daughter by his. second wife, and such was the 
judicious and gentle conduct of Katharine towards them, and 
her unvaried kindness to their father, that she secured" the 
affection of and formed the happiness of the family. So 
admirable were the qualities of Lady Latimer, and so prudent 
and decorous were her manners, that she was looked up to 
with an esteem and veneration seldom accorded to so youth- 
ful a woman. She passed the greater portion of her time in 
the peaceful seclusion of the country, discharging with zeal 
and tenderness the duties of a wife and stepmother, proving 
herself the soother of the cares and infirmities of an elderly 
husband, and the friend and adviser of his son and daughter. 
Though of acquirements so superior to the generality of her 
sex, she was totally exempt from the pedantry and free from 
the pretension which so eften detract from superior knowledge 
in the young and beautiful. That she had already learned 
to think for herself may be concluded, when — -with a husband 
old enough to be her father, and a prejudiced if not a bigoted 
Roman Catholic — she, without embittering the peace and happi- 
ness of her conjugal life by a single argument on religious 
subjects, had sincerely turned her strong mind to the reformed 
religion, the seeds of which were now planted to bring forth 
their fruits at a later period. 

Of Lord Latimer's devotion to the Roman Catholic faith, 
a strong and to himself a dangerous proof was given by his 



KATHARINE PARR. 329 

joining, as one of the leaders, the hand associated in the north 
of England under the name of the "Pilgrimage of Grace," 
and headed by Robert Aske, to demand a restoration of the 
church property and monasteries, which led to an open insur- 
rection, when an appeal to the sovereign was found ineffectual. 
Katharine soon after her husband's pardon for his participa- 
tion in this affair again became a widow, and by this event 
a large dowry was added to her income, including the manors 
of Cumberton, Wadborough, and several other estates in 
Worcestershire. At liberty to follow the bias of her own con- 
victions, she now turned to the study of that creed which the 
opposition that might naturally be expected from her late 
lord had previously prevented her from openly avowing. 
Assisted in her researches after truth by some of the ablest 
advocates of the reformation, she soon embraced with pious 
fervor the tenets she could no longer doubt. The courage 
evinced by Katharine Parr in thus confronting danger, was 
no less remarkable than the piety which led her, while yet a 
youthful and lovely woman, in the possession of great wealth, 
and uncontrolled mistress of her own actions, to turn from the 
fascinations of pleasure, and the admiration she was formed 
to command, to devote her time to higher, nobler aims, in the 
study of her adopted religion, and the practice of its duties. 
But the austerity of her life, so unusual in her sex and at her 
age, did not deter suitors from seeking her hand. Among the 
most brilliant of these was one who had captivated many a 
female heart by his personal attractions, gallant bearing, and 
the art with which these advantages were exhibited when he 
wished to please. But perhaps the fair object to whom he 
now directed his attention was less struck by his manly comeli- 
ness, great as it was reported to be, than by the knowledge 
that he leaned to the creed she had adopted ; for although Sir 
Thomas Seymour could not be considered a religious man, 
the mere fact that he preferred the reformed to the ancient 
faith, must have pleaded greatly in his favor with Katharine, 
whose heart, softened by his assiduities, yielded itself to his 
keeping, and won her consent to bestow her hand on him at 
no very distant day. Fate had decreed that this marriage 
was not to be, or at least not then ; for Katharine, who had 
already been the wife of two elderly widowers, was reserved 
to become the sixth wife of a third, and of no less a personage 
than her liege sovereign. That she was already well acquainted 



330 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

with the king, is proved by her kinsman, the poet Throckmor- 
ton. By her influence a persecution of Sir George Throckmor- 
ton, by Cromwell, Henry the Eighth's secretary, was put an end 
to, and Cromwell's own fall precipitated. This fact, which 
shows her influence with the king, took place in 1540, nine 
years before her marriage with him. She, herself, came in for 
some of the spoils of Cromwell's estate, — amongst others, the 
manor of Wimbledon. 

She at first met the king's advances with more of distrust 
and alarm than with gratified ambition. The fate of most 
of her predecessors must have served as an awful warning 
to any woman selected by Henry to replace them ; for, however 
conscious of her own purity, the well-known caprice of that 
self-willed tyrant, and the unhesitating cruelty with which 
he obeyed its impulses, could not fail to make her tremble at 
placing her destiny in his power. Fear, in Katharine's case, 
was aided by her affection for another, in opposing the suit 
of him who was more accustomed to command than to sue. 

This reluctance on her part only served to increase the 
ardor of Henry, who plied his suit so successfully, that 
Katharine at length assented to become his bride, ere the 
period prescribed by etiquette for her mourning for Lord 
Latimer had expired. What became of Sir Thomas Seymour 
while Henry wooed and won his intended wife, history does 
not inform us. Too experienced a courtier to risk offending his 
royal master, and brother-in-law, by disputing the hand of 
Katharine, he probably now wished to conceal that he had 
ever sought it, and nothing during the king's life leads to a 
supposition that he believed any attachment between his queen 
and brother-in-law had ever existed. 

The nuptials of Henry with Katharine were solemnized in 
July, 1543, at Hampton Court, with all befitting state, in the 
presence of the daughters of Henry, and several of the lords and 
ladies most esteemed by and connected with the sovereign 
and his bride. Among these was the Earl of Hertford, the 
sight of whom must have reminded Katharine of her broken 
vows to his absent brother, if ambition had not at last wholly 
triumphed over more tender feelings. This, the sixth marriage 
contracted by Henry, excited no dissatisfaction in his sub- 
jects, and no envy or dislike towards the object of his choice. 
It seemed to be well understood that it had not been achieved 
by any aspirings or intrigues on the part of Katharine, whose 



KATHARINE PARR. 331 

reputation for virtue, prudence, and moderation, had acquired 
her general esteem and respect. Her elevation served not to 
detract from her noble qualities. Undazzled by the splendor 
that surrounded her, she, from the commencement of her 
marriage, performed towards her husband and his children 
the duties of an. attentive wife arid a kind mother, soothing the 
irascibility of a temper never good, but now rendered more 
intolerable by the infirmities entailed by his increasing age, 
and the result of his gross habits of self-indulgence. No longer 
able to enjoy those sports for which his obesity and shattered 
health unfitted him, Henry pined for his wonted amusements, 
and brooded over the change in himself with gloomy fore- 
bodings of the final issue. If the choice he had made in his 
advanced age could not bring him all the pleasure he might 
have anticipated in the possession of a wife still youthful and 
handsome enough to excite love, it at least secured him a tender 
and assiduous nurse, and an intelligent and sweet-tempered 
companion. Without her, deplorable must have been the declin- 
ing years of this relentless tyrant. To Katharine, how light in 
the balance in which human happiness is weighed, must have 
appeared the dignity and grandeur to which she had been raised, 
in comparison with the price with which she had purchased it ! 
A more pleasant, although scarcely a less difficult task for 
the queen, was that of the discharge of her maternal duties. 
The unfeeling and capricious conduct of Henrv to his offspring 
had created in their breasts sentiments of dislike, if not hatred, 
towards each other. The Princess Mary was too old when she 
lost her royal mother not to comprehend and bitterly feel 
the insults and injustice heaped on the head of that virtuous 
queen — insults which must have abridged her life — and had 
been too long accustomed to be considered and treated as 
heiress to the throne, not to feel the injustice of being robbed 
of her birthright, to make room for the daughter of Anne 
Boleyn, the handmaid of her mother. She, the scion of a 
regal race, with the proud sangre asula of Spain flowing in 
her veins, must have looked disdainfully on the child of Anne 
Boleyn and the son of Jane Seymour, even had she not been stig- 
matized as illegitimate — a wound inflicted no less deeply on her 
loved mother's fame than on her own pride. How difficult, 
then, it must have been for Katharine Parr to have reconciled 
the jarring elements of dislike natural to the position in which 
the offspring of Henry had been placed, and to weave even 



332 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

a slender and temporary web of affinity between them! That 
she succeeded in winning" their affection while guiding their 
studies, there can be no doubt. Proofs of this exist in their 
letters to her, as well as in the harmony in which they are 
reported to have lived, — convincing and irrefragible arguments 
in favor of the goodness of her heart, the excellence of her 
temper and the soundness of her understanding. 

While thus conscientiously and tenderly fulfilling her conju- 
gal and maternal duties, Katharine found herself, very soon 
after she entered upon them, placed in a position not only diffi- 
cult, but dangerous to her own safety. Her devotion to the 
principles of the reformation, while it won her the esteem and 
reverence of those who espoused and advocated them, awak- 
ened the fears and excited the dislike of those opposed to any 
change. Some persons of little note, but of unspotted charac- 
ters, had formed a religious pact, professing opinions of dissent 
from the six articles, still held inviolable by the church and 
state. Information having been given to the leaders of the 
adverse party, they, suspicious that the queen tacitly favored 
these humble reformers, though she did not, and perhaps dared 
not, openly extend her protection to them, induced Gardiner, 
bishop of Winchester, to plead with the king for permission 
that a search should be instituted for the discovery of books 
meant to propagate the reformed faith. 

Here we find the very prelate who had so lately pronounced 
the nuptial benediction on Henry and his queen actively em- 
ployed in sowing the first seeds of dissension between them — 
seeds so calculated not only to destroy the happiness of both, 
but to endanger the life of one ; for the unrelenting cruelty of 
the king was too well known not to give rise to the thought of 
the possible, if not probable, result to Katharine, if she incurred 
the displeasure of her stern husband. 

Little was found to justify suspicion ; but that little, con- 
sisting of some commentaries on the Bible and an unfinished 
Latin concordance, offered sufficient cause, to those who were 
predisposed to find one, for casting into prison John Marbeck, 
a chorister, in whose house they were found, and three indi- 
viduals with whom he was associated. These three were tried 
and sentenced to the stake ; but Marbeck, more fortunate, 
escaped this terrible death, some one having interceded for him 
with the king. What must have been the feelings of the queen 
at this barbarous cruelty exercised towards men guilty of no 



KATHARINE PARR. 333 

crime except the alleged one of entertaining the same creed as 
her own ! 

A good understanding was soon established between the 
Princess Mary and Katharine, which was the less to be ex- 
pected from the great difference in their creeds — a difference 
which the proximity of their ages enabled them soon to per- 
ceive. Nothing was left undone on the part of the queen to 
encourage the king to render justice to both his daughters by 
assuring their position at court, not only as his acknowledged 
offspring, but as having a right, in case of the failure of male 
heirs, to succeed him on the throne ; allowing, however, prece- 
dence to any children to which the present queen should give 
birth. Her stepson, Prince Edward, experienced the most 
unvarying attention from Katharine. She took a lively interest 
in his studies, and incited him to diligence in them by her 
judicious counsel and example, while he, in return, evinced not 
only a profound respect, but a warm affection, to his gentle 
monitress. 

But while thus praiseworthily discharging her duties to her 
royal husband and his offspring in the domestic sphere, Kath- 
arine was by no means neglectful of the etiquette and stately 
grandeur which appertained to her queenly dignity, and which 
she scrupulously maintained in demeanor, manners and dress. 
Calm and reserved, yet gracious, she strictly avoided ever com- 
promising, even in small things, as well as in great, the respect 
due to the throne. Her dress was not only remarkable for its 
splendor, but still more so for good taste and attention to its 
becomingness — a coquetry which is perhaps the only pardon- 
able one in a married woman who wishes to keep alive the 
admiration of her husband. If Katharine's beauty, which all 
acknowledged, and her taste in dress, which all approved, 
excited in the breasts of others the admiration she only sought 
to maintain in that of her sovereign, the dignified reserve of 
her manners so effectually precluded all approaches to famil- 
iarity that not even an eye dared indicate nor a tongue utter a 
sentiment less profoundly respectful than was meet to reach 
the ear of a queen. The jealous Henry, exacting as he was, 
never found cause for reproof, and must have often been made 
sensible, by the force of contrast, of the difference between the 
decorous Queen Katharine and the gay and thoughtless Anne 
Boleyn, whose levity furnished such weapons to her enemies 
for her destruction. Her elevation to the throne did not effect 
any change in the love of study, which had been a peculiar 



334 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

characteristic in Katharine from her early youth ; nor did this 
love of grave studies prevent her from those feminine occu- 
pations with the needle to which learned women are seldom 
prone. She is said to have excelled in embroidery, and to have 
left many proofs of her rare skill in it. The address of Kath- 
arine succeeded in maintaining her influence over the bluff 
Henry — a fact proved by his appointing her regent during his 
expedition against France in 1544, and leaving the heir to the 
crown and the two princesses solely in her charge. The king 
had previously elevated some of Katharine's near relatives to 
the peerage ; her brother he created Earl of Essex and Marquis 
of Northampton, and on her uncle, Lord Parr, he bestowed 
the office of lord chamberlain. Indeed, to all her relatives was 
the king's favor extended, in compliance with her wishes ; for 
she was extremely attached to them. The Earl of Hertford 
was appointed by Henry to take up his abode in the royal 
palace with the queen-regent during the king's absence — a 
proof that Henry had conceived no suspicion of Katharine's 
former attachment to Sir Thomas Seymour, the younger 
brother of Lord Hertford ; otherwise, with his jealous tend- 
ency, he would not have furnished occasion, by the residence 
of the earl in the same house with the aueen, for more familiar 
intercourse with Sir Thomas. 

It was probably during Henry's expedition that Katharine 
wrote the work entitled "The Lamentations of a Sinner," which 
has acquired her such celebrity ; for, notwithstanding its 
brevity, it certainly displays remarkable ability and great theo- 
logical learning, mixed with lavish flattery of the king. 

The regency of Katharine offers nothing remarkable. If 
courtiers could find no subject on which to lavish their com- 
pliments to her, her enemies could find no basis for blame, the 
best proof of the prudence and caution with which she exercised 
the power confided to her ; and Henry found on his return, after 
the surrender of Boulogne, a wife as submissive as before, and 
anxious to resign her high office into his firmer hands, glad to 
be released from the heavy responsibility, of which, however, 
she had proved herself so worthy. The appointment of Sir 
Thomas Seymour to the office of gentleman of the king's 
privy chamber, by bringing him into immediate contact with 
the royal household, must have been painful, if not trying, to 
the feelings of Katharine. To be exposed to behold daily one 
whom she had for the first and only time of her life loved, 
must have reminded her of hopes of happiness crushed when 



KATHARINE PARR. 335 

they were the brightest ; and the fear of her fond remembrance 
being revealed, even by a glance, either to her jealous husband 
or her former lover, must have often haunted her. Henry had 
now grown as frightful in person as he was in mind. His 
obesity had increased to a degree that rendered him a moving 
mass of bloated infirmities, offering a remarkable contrast to the 
handsome and brilliant object of her first affection. If Katharine 
felt this, she so well concealed it that never could the prying 
eyes of those around her discover aught to draw even the 
slightest suspicion of her former preference to their minds. 

Although certainly the most esteemed, if not the most pas- 
sionately loved, of Henry's queens, Katharine Parr was never 
crowned. Motives of economy, and not any want of respect, 
were the cause of this omission in her case, an omission of eti- 
quette at which she was too prudent to experience any regret, 
being well acquainted with the difficulties under which the 
royal finances were then laboring, and which compelled Henry 
to have recourse to his parliament for relief. 

Had Katharine been vain of her erudition, she must have 
been gratified by the high opinion entertained of her acquire- 
ments by no less grave and learned a body than the university 
of Cambridge, as testified by a letter from that college ad- 
dressed to her in Latin, entreating her protection with the king, 
when they dreaded, and not without reason, that he meant to 
take advantage of the license granted by parliament, to possess 
himself of the incomes of colleges for his own use, and that, 
consequently, Cambridge would share the general fate which 
menaced all others. Katharine's pleadings in favor of this 
university were successful, and there is a charming mixture of 
naivete with well-acted modesty in the letter in which she an- 
nounced to the learned body that it had nothing to fear from 
the king, and the gravity with which, while renouncing all pre- 
tension to erudition, she delivers her advice on the studies to 
be professed and pursued by the students. This letter, like all 
others written by her after her elevation to the throne, con- 
tains such flattering and dexterous compliments to the king as 
indicate her tact and fear of exciting any jealousy in him by 
aught that could be deemed a pretension to the learning which 
he was ambitious to obtain credit for, and which had acquired 
for him the unmerited title of Defender of the Faith, a title to 
which Katharine had infinitely a better claim by her own writ- 
ings, and by the encouragement she afforded to the translation 
of the scriptures. 



336 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Heavy days had now fallen on the king, who bore them not 
more patiently because increasing infirmity had long heralded 
their approach. The great obesity, which had for a consid- 
erable period rendered exercise a painful if not an imprac- 
ticable exertion, now turned to a dropsy, which precluded even 
a change of posture without aid, while the torture inflicted by 
the ulceration in one of his legs left him no repose. It was 
now that Henry learned truly to appreciate the obedient wife 
and gentle nurse, who watched by his couch, and soothed, if 
she could not mitigate, his sufferings. Her delicate hand alone 
applied the remedies recommended by the medical attendants, 
and dressed the disgusting wound, a task at which even a 
menial might have shuddered. Her mild and cheerful temper 
suggested and her sweet voice whispered words of hope and 
comfort, when the past had assumed the power of stinging her 
husband with remorse, the present had become insupportable, 
and the dread future appalled him. 

The selfishness of Henry led to his according an increased 
and increasing favor to the tender nurse on whom he now de- 
pended for all the ease and earthly consolation he could still 
hope for; and this growing favor alarmed the jealousy of 
those who wished to confine all influence over their sovereign 
to themselves. To destroy this sole blessing left to Henry in 
his infirmities was the fixed aim of these ambitious men ; but 
how to accomplish this object against one so blameless as Kath- 
arine puzzled even them, although their brains were fertile in 
schemes for mischief. The adoption and firm adherence of 
the queen to the reformation furnished the only chance for the 
success of their project to injure her. Henry, when he abjured 
the supremacy of the pope, did it to carry out his own views, 
and was much more influenced by worldly than spiritual mo- 
tives. He wished that his subjects should transfer to him the 
implicit devotion they had previously yielded to the pope, and 
was disposed to resent, as little short of treason, and to punish 
with the utmost severity, any dissent from his own creed, which, 
while it rejected certain portions of the dogmas of the ancient 
faith, retained all its bigotry and fanaticism. Hence, urged on 
no less by his own aversion to the slightest appeal from his 
opinion on religious as well as on other subjects, than by those 
who were inimical to the queen, he declared his intention of 
visiting with the heaviest penalties all those who presumed to 
entertain opinions at all differing from his own in points of 
faith. How far the grievous state of his body might have in- 



KATHARINE PARR. 337 

fluenoed his mind on this occasion is for those to reflect on who 
are disposed to find an excuse for his indomitable tyranny, 
which, not content with governing the lives of his subjects in 
this world, sought to interfere with their hopes of another and 
a better. To attack the queen openly would have been too bold 
a measure for the wily men who sought her destruction ; they 
therefore first turned their attention to a person in whom she 
was supposed to feel a strong interest, and from whom they an- 
ticipated that the blow aimed might rebound to the queen. Anne 
Askew, a youthful and fair matron of gentle blood and of no 
inconsiderable erudition, had adopted the tenets which Kath- 
arine was more than suspected of favoring, if not maintaining, 
and had been in consequence expelled from the conjugal roof 
by her bigoted husband. Repudiated by him, she devoted her- 
self to the extension of the religion she had professed, and by 
so doing had attracted the notice and increased the displeasure 
of those opposed to it. It became known that the queen had 
accepted books written in support of the new faith from this 
lady, and on this circumstance it was hoped that a charge could 
be grounded against her for the reading of prohibited works, 
the penalties for which were then very severe. 

Anne Askew, the unfortunate victim of these persecutions, 
underwent many species of torture to extort from her some 
acknowledgment that might implicate the queen ; but her firm- 
ness of character defeated the hope of Katharine's enemies, 
and none of the cruelties practiced on her could wring from 
her a single admission that could injure the queen. Even to the 
last act of the tragedy — her terrible death, when the flames 
encircled her tortured frame — the heroic victim maintained 
her constancy ; and those who beheld her martyrdom were so 
struck by the seraphic expression of her countenance that they 
proclaimed that she had already begun to reap the reward of 
her virtue by her triumph over physical agony, owing to her 
thoughts being elevated to that Heaven in which she had won 
a place. 

Secret information had been given to the king that the Lady 
Herbert, sister of the queen, was much addicted to the study 
of prohibited works on religion, and this information, joined 
to the sole imprudence of which Katharine could be charged, 
awakened the enmity of the cruel and moody tyrant. The im- 
prudence to which we refer is, the queen's having occasionally 
entered upon controversial subjects, which, although main- 



338 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

tained on her part with perfect good temper and an avoidance 
of aught which might be deemed offensive to the king, had, 
nevertheless, displeased him. The not adopting his opinions 
on all subjects was a sin of deep dye in his eyes, but the advo- 
cating her own was deemed an unpardonable one. He ex- 
pressed his dissatisfaction in the presence of the Bishop of 
Winchester, one of Katharine's bitterest enemies ; and he, 
emboldened by this encouragement, ventured to disclose all that 
his enmity could suggest to the disadvantage of the queen, 
expressing, at the same time, his wonder that she dared to 
oppose one allowed by all to be so well versed and deeply 
grounded in theological points as the king. Thus, by the most 
lavish flattery, he increased Henry's overweening vanity, and 
awakened his ire that any one dared to wound it, and so effect- 
ually did the wily prelate work on the worst feelings of his 
master, even going so far as to accuse the queen of evil inten- 
tions towards him, that Henry yielded to persuasion that ar- 
ticles of impeachment against her, and all the ladies of the 
court whom she most trusted, should be drawn up ; that the 
most rigid search should be made in their apartments, in order 
to discover some books or papers that might serve to implicate 
the queen, who was to be arrested and conveyed to the Tower.. 
These articles, with the order for her arrest, to which her life 
might be the sacrifice, were fortunately dropped, accidentally, 
in the palace, by Chancellor Wriothesley, after Henry had 
affixed his signature to them, and were found by one of the 
queen's household, who immediately delivered them to her. 
Unsuspicious of the danger that menaced her life, the discovery 
which now burst on her must have filled Katharine with a 
terror and dismay which the consciousness of her own inno- 
cence of any crime could not dispel. The shock brought on a 
severe illness, during the paroxysms of which Henry's hard 
heart relented, and he condescended to visit her, for which 
favor she expressed such gratitude that he was moved ; and 
when, the following day, the queen visited him in his chamber, 
he so well concealed his displeasure as to treat her with great 
kindness. Nevertheless, he introduced the subject of religion, 
on which, had not Katharine been warned, she might have 
sealed her own doom, by once more maintaining the argu- 
ments which had previously angered him. But now, on her 
guard, she assumed suah an entire submission to his sentiments, 
and so judiciously flattered his self-love, by admitting his 



KATHARINE PARR. 339 

superior knowledge and wisdom on all matters, that he became 
disarmed, and upon her artfully declaring that when she had 
previously pretended to dissent from his opinions it was solely 
to turn away his thoughts from his boddy ailments and to 
acquire some portion of the vast knowledge in which he so far 
excelled all others, he embraced her with renewed affection, 
forgetful that, but a few days before, he had signed the order 
for her arrest, a preface in all human probability to one for her 
death. Henry's anger fell heavily on those who had planned 
the destruction of Katharine, which they never would have 
dared to do had he not encouraged it by censuring her in their 
presence in a moment of petulance ; and, no sooner had her 
well-timed submission and adroit flattery restored her to his 
favor than he visited on others the blame, of which conscience 
might have told him he merited even a larger share than they. 
Katharine never revealed to the king her knowledge of the 
danger she had incurred, a great prudence on her part ; nay 
more, when Henry bitterly reproached the Lord Chancellor, 
calling him by the most opprobrious names, she endeavored to 
mollify his anger, and to plead for her enemy, without appear- 
ing to know how or why he had displeased his sovereign. The 
Bishop of Winchester, the mover of the plot against the queen, 
Henry would no more see, and ever after spoke of him in terms 
of hatred. 

It must have been a difficult task for Katharine to conceal 
from her capricious and cruel husband the dread and insecurity 
under which she labored from the hour in which she discovered 
how nearly she had approached the terrible fate to which he 
had doomed her. Her life after this must have been, during 
the remainder of his, an unceasing scene of anxiety, distrust 
and circumspection. She must have trembled, lest the utter- 
ance of a sentiment, or even a word, might excite the king's 
anger and risk the uncertain tenure by which she held exist- 
ence. Nevertheless, she continued as tender a nurse and as 
cheerful a companion as if she knew no dread, and Henry's 
affection and confidence in her was for the time restored. 
How loathsome must the proofs of this rekindled fondness 
have been to its object may easily be imagined, when the state 
of the king's bodily suffering and mental anxiety are consid- 
ered. With a bloated person, that rendered every movement 
not only impracticable but even the attempt a torture, and an 
ulcerated leg that exhaled the most offensive odor, the queen 
must have thought a crown dearly purchased at the price of 



340 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

sitting day and night by his couch, during the tedious time 
that intervened before his death released her from so heavy a 
trial. His temper, always bad, became insupportable as he 
approached his end ; and cruelty, with him an instinct, in- 
creased as the time drew near when he could no longer exer- 
cise its dictates. His dying hours were fraught with horror, 
offering a fearful lesson of the results of an ill-spent life. 

If we may credit the statements of more than one of his his- 
torians, Henry, when death overtook him, was on the point 
of bringing a fresh charge against his aueen for heresy; but 
these statements appear almost too terrible for belief, except 
that, like the eastern tyrants, whom in many points he resem- 
bled, he might wish that the object of his gross love should 
not survive him, and therefore decided to doom her to death 
when he could no longer hope to retard his own departure 
from life. 

That Katharine could have had no suspicion of Henry's 
last intention to destroy her is proved by her unfeigned sur- 
prise and disappointment when his will was made known to 
her, on finding that she had not been appointed to the regency 
nor intrusted with the care of the youthful Edward. Her an- 
noyance on this occasion betrays that ambition still lived in 
her breast, notwithstanding that she had seen enough, Heaven 
knows, to have revealed the worthlessness of the fulfillment of 
its highest yearnings. The affection always professed towards 
her by the youthful sovereign must have led her to believe that 
she might still retain a powerful influence over him ; but the 
Earl of Hertford, who had determined to take charge of his 
nephew, allowed no opportunities to the queen to cultivate the 
affection of which she imagined she had sown the seeds too 
carefully to doubt a plentiful harvest. 

Perhaps the hope of gaining access to the youthful king 
may have induced Katharine to violate all etiquette, in receiv- 
ing the vows of her former suitor, Sir Thomas Seymour, ere 
yet the grave had closed over her royal husband. Sir Thomas 
was the younger brother of the Earl of Hertford, now become 
Duke of Somerset, who held full power over the king ; and as 
Sir Thomas was also uncle to the sovereign, and had been 
appointed one of the regency till the king's majority, Katharine 
might naturally enough have thought that through this con- 
nection she might again be brought in contact with Edward. 
Whatever might be the motive, certain it is that she had many 



KATHARINE PARR. 341 

private interviews, and at night, too, with her admirer, who 
plied his suit so perseveringly, that in a little more than 
four months from the death of Henry she bestowed on him 
her hand. The imprudence of the secret interviews between 
Katharine and Seymour, followed by their nuptials so long 
before etiquette or even decency could tolerate such a step, 
seems the more unaccountable when the extreme prudence 
and discretion of Katharine, through all her previous life, 
is remembered, and that she had now arrived at the mature 
age of thirty-five, a period at which passion is supposed to have 
less influence than in youth. Katharine must have been well 
aware that her marriage so soon after her widowhood would 
be deemed wrong, for it was kept concealed for some time; 
and she rendered herself liable to the charge of duplicity by 
adderssing, after she had wedded Seymour secretly, and dur- 
ing the early days of her marriage, a letter to the king, filled 
with expressions of affection to his late father. Conscious 
of the censures that she had incurred, Katharine is suspected 
of having advised Seymour to enlist the king's sympathies 
in their favor, and to induce the unsuspecting Edward to 
plead for his uncle with her, after that uncle's suit had been 
rewarded with her hand. Certain it is that Edward wrote 
to her to advise the marriage, and to promise his protection 
to the pair. He wished to contract it some weeks after it 
had been secretly solemnized ; an artifice which, if really 
planned by her, was not creditable on the part of Katharine, 
whose previous good conduct could not have prepared the 
world for this change. 

These untoward nuptials furnished an excuse to Somerset, 
of which he readily availed himself, to denounce, with the 
utmost severity, the ill-assorted marriage of his brother. Fear- 
ful of the influence which the queen and her husband might 
acquire over the king, to the injury of his own power, he 
loudly censured Seymour, and refused to allow Katharine the 
possession of the valuable jewels bestowed on her by Henry 
during his lifetime. She was debarred access to the king, and 
the protector now treated her with an unceremonious want 
of courtesy, and even of justice, that must have goaded her to 
anger, by intimating that when she condescended to become 
his sister-in-law, he ceased to consider her a queen. But it 
was not the ambition alone of Somerset, although that was a 
potent motive for his ill-treatment of Katharine and his brother,- 



342 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

which induced him to betray such enmity to them. A dislike 
had long subsisted between the queen and the wife of the pro- 
tector, which now, no longer concealed on the part of the lat- 
ter by respect for the station of the former, broke loose from 
all constraint. The Duchess of Somerset had the insolence 
not only to refuse to pay those honors to the queen which she 
had hitherto, as in duty bound, accorded to her, but positively 
pretended to take precedence of her. The slight and affronts 
offered to Katharine by her sister-in-law, and the injustice com- 
mitted towards her by the protector, could be ill brooked by 
one who had shared a throne, and who was by no means 
deficient in pride and spirit. The sense of these annoyances 
must have been bitterly aggravated by Katharine's conscious- 
ness that she had drawn them on herself by her ill-advised 
and indecorous marriage with the object of her former flame; 
and being, soon after her nuptials, declared, in a state that gave 
promise of her becoming in due time a mother, the anxiety 
and indignation to which she was often made a prey must have 
greatly tended to impair her health. 

Nor were these the sole trials and annoyances to which 
Katharine was exposed. Some infinitely more fatal to her 
domestic happiness assailed her. The Princess Elizabeth had 
resided with her since the death of Henry, as well as previously, 
and the familiarity to which a daily intercourse seldom fails 
to lead, by degrees became so marked between Seymour and 
the princess, as to occasion great pain to the queen. Elizabeth, 
a lively and attractive girl of fifteen, was a dangerous tempta- 
tion to have continually before the eyes of a man at all times 
more disposed to yield than to resist it ; and although no more 
blamable impropriety than romping may have ever been con- 
templated by Seymour, the evident pleasure it afforded him 
wounded her who had sacrificed so much to become his wife, 
and who, now in a state that demanded his affectionate atten- 
tions, found that her husband preferred a game of romps, 
often verging on, if not passing, the bounds of propriety, with 
her youthful stepdaughter, to a tete-a-tete with herself. It 
appears quite clear that, however Katharine might at first 
have permitted these indecorous familiarities between her 
husband and the Princess Elizabeth, they at length 
excited her jealousy, and she endeavored to check them. 
Finding this more difficult than she had anticipated, 
she took measures for the removal of the princess from her 



KATHARINE PARR. 343 

house. This step was fortunately carried into effect without 
any disagreeable words, or aught approaching a misunder- 
standing on either side ; and a friendly intercourse was main- 
tained between Katharine and the princess, by letter, up to the 
death of the queen. 

In August, 1548, the queen gave birth to a daughter, and, 
seven days after, resigned her life, not without strong sus- 
picions having been excited that her husband had hastened that 
event, owing to his attachment to the Princess Elizabeth, to 
whose hand he presumed to lift his eyes. The suspicion of this 
iniquitous conduct on the part of Seymour was founded on 
some vague reproaches uttered by Katharine in the presence of 
her attendants, and probably when in the delirium of the violent 
fever which caused her death. Those around her saw nothing 
in the manner of her husband to justify suspicion of his guilt. 
He was watchful and affectionate to her ; and the vague re- 
proaches she uttered might be easily explained by the well- 
known proneness of all persons under the influence of delirium 
to accuse those most dear to them of unkindness, even while 
receiving proofs of the utmost tenderness and care. 

The fate of Katharine's husband, Lord Thomas Seymour, 
is well known to the readers of history. He was beheaded on 
Tower-hill, March 20, 1549, on a charge of endeavoring to 
supplant his elder brother, the Duke of Somerset, in the office 
of guardian to the king. Thus he perished only six months 
and fourteen days after Katharine's death. His ambitious 
brother, also at a later day, fell by the same fate. It has gen- 
erally been supposed that the child of Lord Thomas and Queen 
Katharine, Mary Seymour, died unmarried ; but Miss Strick- 
land has satisfactorily shown that this was not the case. After 
having been stripped of her hereditary property, she married 
Sir Edward Bushel, and from her are descended the Lawsons 
of Clevedon and Hereford. 



LADY JANE GREY. 

There is no character in English history which has excited 
a deeper or a purer interest than that of Lady Jane Grey. 
Though she perished by the axe of the executioner before she 
had reached her twentieth year, we forget that she was little 
more than a child as we contemplate the wisdom and the noble 
fortitude which she displayed in that brief career of existence. 
We listen to the words of a sagacity as profound as the piety 
which animated them ; behold her, under the pressure of un- 
fortunate circumstances, passing from a throne to a violent 
death with a calm propriety and a lofty philosophy which 
leave irresistibly behind them the impression of a mature and 
deeply-experienced woman. Lady Jane Grey was a mere girl 
who had been brought up in the highest walks of life, close 
to the throne, and with the varied objects of human ambition 
thickly scattered under her very feet, and yet had from actual 
childhood treated all such things with the indifference of a 
stoic, and embraced the better part of religion and of intel- 
lectual pleasures with a devotion that could not have been 
exceeded by the most portionless, unallied, and time-worn 
philosopher. It was only in her fourteenth year that Roger 
Ascham, finding her at Bradgate, reading her Plato, while 
her father and mother were with their friends out hunting, 
and expressing his astonishment that she was not partaking 
the pleasures of her family, received the startling answer, 
"Alas ! good folk, they never felt what true pleasure means ; 
I wisse all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleas- 
ure that I find in Plato!" 

Such a singular taste in one so very a child, and which con- 
tinued with her to the last, would have led us to suspect that 
she possessed more head than heart, had not history put it be- 
yond a doubt that she was as affectionate and tender in her 
disposition as she was extraordinary in her capacity, the eleva- 
tion of her taste, and the extent of her acquirements. In the 

344 



LADY JANE GREY. 345 

freshness of her teens Lady Jane Grey had reached a perfec- 
tion of womanhood, which the solemn circumstances of her 
early death stamped with an immortality of admiration, and 
made her a model to her sex at once noble, beautiful, and 
worthy of imitation, from the purity with which she lived, 
and the greatness with which she died. 

Lady Jane was not only of a high, but an ancient lineage. 
She was descended from Rollo, chamberlain to Robert, Duke 
of Normandy, who is said to have obtained from that prince 
the castle of Croy, in Picardy : hence the name corrupted into 
Grey. From this root spring the numerous branches of the 
Grey family ; the Greys of Groby, of Wilton, and Ruthyn. 
We may, however, shorten the long genealogy, and descend 
at once to the individual who first attracted much notice from 
the historian. This was John de Grey, the son and heir of 
Lord Grey of Groby, who married Elizabeth Woodville, 
daughter of Sir Richard Woodville, created Earl of Rivers, 
on Elizabeth, in her widowhood, marrying Edward the Fourth. 

The family of the Greys now rose into sudden notice and im- 
portance. No queen who ever sat on the throne of England 
so zealously and perseveringly advanced all her relatives to 
the utmost possible pitch of worldly rank and greatness, both 
by using the favor of the monarch, and by matching them 
with the members of great aristocratic houses. Elizabeth's 
first husband, John de Grey, was slain at the battle of St. 
Alban's ; and, as recorded in her life, it was in the act of 
soliciting the king to restore the confiscated property of her 
two sons, Thomas and Richard, that she made such an im- 
pression on the susceptible heart of Edward, as led to her 
advancement to the throne. The eldest son, Thomas, became, 
by succession to his father's title Lord Grey of Groby, and 
was created by his father-in-law, Edward the Fourth, in 
14.71, Earl of Huntingdon; but he afterwards resigned this 
title, and was created Marquis of Dorset in 1475. His son 
and heir, Henry Grey, was not only Marquis of Dorset, but 
Baron of Ferrers, Groby, Astley, Bonville, and Harrington. 
He may be considered, in point of rank, as one of the most 
powerful noblemen of his time. In the first year of the reign 
of his kinsman, Edward the Sixth, he was constituted lord 
high constable of that monarch's coronation, and elected knight 
of the garter. In 1550, the fourth year of that reign, he was 
appointed justice itinerant of all the king's forests ; and, in the 
next year, warder of the east, west, and middle marshes to- 



346 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

wards Scotland. His ascent in rank and power did not stop 
here. In early life he married Katharine Fitzalan, daughter of 
the Earl of Arundel; and she dying without issue, he again 
married, and this time to a near connection of the king, namely, 
Lady Frances Brandon, eldest daughter of Charles Brandon, 
Duke of Suffolk, by Mary, widow of Louis the Twelfth of 
France, second daughter ' of King Henry the Seventh, and 
youngest sister of King Henry the Eighth. It was impossible 
in a subject to mount nearer to the throne itself. His wife 
was daughter of a queen of France, granddaughter of Henry 
the Seventh, and niece of Henry the Eighth. In consequence 
of this alliance, he was created Duke of Suffolk, his wife's 
brothers and sisters having died without children. 

Of this nobleman, Lady Jane Grey was the eldest daughter. 
She was thus born in the highest possible rank of a subject, 
and, as it proved in those times, in a most giddy and danger- 
ous eminence. The reigning monarch, in his tenth year, was 
her first cousin, only once removed. He was surrounded by 
ambitious courtiers, amongst whom her father held a most 
conspicuous place ; and, as the king approached manhood, 
whether he lived or died, the desperate attempts at securing 
the chief influence in his court was pretty certain to place a 
young lady of Jane's beauty, talents, and position, in the very 
center of the perilous vortex of ambitious intrigue. As it 
happened, Lady Jane was held in readiness bv her relatives 
to become his queen, if he arrived at years of maturity, and 
on its becoming clear that the failing health of the young 
monarch rendered this impossible — equally ready to succeed 
him. From her verv birth, Lady Jane, formed by nature to 
adorn domestic life bv the exercise of the highest virtues and 
talents, was destined by her connections to become the victim 
of their ambition. 

Lady Jane Grey is supposed to have been born about the 
year 1537, at Bradgate Park, a seat of her father's, a few miles 
from Leicester. The estate still remains in the family, and 
the ruins of the house, still standing in the ancient park, are 
visited with deep reverence by thousands who have in 
their youth read with lively emotion the sad story of 
this extraordinary woman. The education of Lady Jane 
appears to have been commenced early, and carefully prose- 
cuted. Her principal preceptors are said to have been John 
Aylmer, afterwards Bishop of London, and the celebrated 
Roger Ascham. She is said to have made great progress in 



LADY JANE GREY. '34; 

Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Chaldaic, Arabic, French, and Italian. 
We cannot suppose, however, that at her age she could have 
mastered half of these languages so far as her eulogists would 
lead us to infer. There can, nevertheless, be no doubt but 
that her acquirements were far beyond those of ladies gener- 
ally, and infinitely beyond the usual attainments of such a 
tender age. In Latin, Greek, and French, she was assuredly 
well versed, and had read with a judgment and reflection, 
worthy of the maturest years, the best authors in those 
languages. Her taste for these studies was naturally strength- 
ened by the severity of her treatment in her own family, as 
we learn from her own confession to Roger Ascham on that 
visit to Bradgate already alluded to. 

"How came you, madam, to this deep knowledge of pleas- 
ure?" asked Ascham; "and what did chiefly allure you unto it, 
seeing not many women, but very few men, have attained 
thereunto?" 

"I will tell you," she replied, "and tell you a truth which 
perchance you will marvel at. One of the greatest benefits 
that ever God gave me is, that He sent me so sharp and severe 
parents, and so gentle a schoolmaster. For, when I am in 
presence either of father or mother, whether I speak, keep 
silence, sit, stand, go, eat, drink, be merry, or sad — be sewing, 
playing, dancing, or doing anything else, I must do it, as it 
-were, in such weight, measure, and number, even so perfectly 
as God made the world ; or else I am so sharply taunted, so 
cruelly threatened, yea, presently sometimes with pinches, 
nips, bobs, and other ways, which I will not mention for the 
honor I bear them ; so without measure disordered, that I 
think myself in hell till the time come that I must go to Mr. 
Aylmer, who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, and with 
such fair allurements to learning, that I think all the time 
nothing whilst I am with him ; and when I am called from him, 
I fall on weeping, because whatever I do else but learning 
is full of great trouble, fear, and whole misliking to me. And 
thus my book hath been so much pleasure, and more, that in 
respect of it all other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and 
troubles to me." 

This harsh and bitter treatment under the domestic roof 
speaks but little for the sagacity or amiability of her parents, 
and furnishes us with- a key to the submission of Lady Jane 
to those parents and those who assumed the authority of rela- 
tives, even in that last fatal transaction when she assumed 



34& THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the crown in strongest opposition to her own will. The power- 
ful influence of habit as well as a generous desire to save her 
nearest connections from the consequences of their ambitious 
policy, undoubtedly aided greatly in bringing her head to the 
block. 

Perhaps some of the pleasantest days of Lady Jane's child- 
hood were passed in the society and under the care of Queen 
Katharine Parr, whose serious and religious mind seems to 
have delighted in the budding genius and the deep piety of this 
lovely and intellectual girl. We have evidence of her being with 
Katharine Parr both before and subsequent to that queen's 
marriage with Lord Seymour of Sudely, the lord admiral, and 
brother of Protector Somerset. 

Though Lady Jane was at this period but eleven years of 
age, her proximity to the throne, combined with her beauty 
and talents, had arrested the attention of those who hoped to 
profit by them. The lord admiral, who married a queen- 
dowager, and who gave unmistakable signs of an audacious 
hope of marrying the Princess Elizabeth, who had even at that 
period a very probable chance of succession to the crown of 
England, was a man full of plottings and speculations of the 
most daring character. To secure a strong hold on his nephew 
Edward the Sixth, and wrest him from the equally selfish 
grasp of his brother Somerset, Seymour had thus early fixed on 
Lady Jane Grey as- the future consort of the voung king. He 
had not merely planned this, but he had bargained with her 
father for the right of disposing of her hand. Whether, there- 
fore, Lady Jane were residing with Queen Katharine before 
Lord Seymour conceived these designs, or whether she was 
invited to her majesty's house in consequence of his sugges- 
tions, nothing can be clearer than that he must have regarded 
her being there as a circumstance most auspicious to his 
projects. 

Queen Katharine died at Hanworth, in 1548, while Lady 
Jane was still with her ; and the Marquis of Dorset, her father, 
demanded her return home soon after, very properly consider- 
ing that the parental oversight was much more desirable for 
her than the society of a man of the lord admiral's calculating, 
and yet assuming and rash, character. In consequence of this 
demand, Lady Jane returned to her parents ; but Lord Seymour 
did not long rest satisfied without her being permitted to re- 
turn to him. Mr. Howard, in his "Lady Jane Grey and Her 



LADY JANE GREY. 349 

Times," has cited a paper, written by the Marquis of Dorset, 
in which, after the trial and execution of Lord Seymour, the 
marquis endeavors to justify to the protector his having al- 
lowed his daughter to be under the care of Seymour. He 
declares that it was his determination not to have allowed 
his daughter to return to Seymour after the queen-dowager's 
death, "but that he was so earnest in. persuading him, that he 
could not resist him ; amongst which persuasions was, that he 
would marry her to the king's majesty!" To induce the 
Marquis of Dorset to comply with this request, he promised 
to lend him two thousand pounds without bond ; and, on Lady 
Jane being sent, he paid over an installment of five hundred 
pounds. 

Thus was this amiable and pure-minded girl, even in he* 
mere girlhood, made the object of ambitious speculation by 
these upstart Seymours, both brothers being equally anxious 
to secure her for the completion of their plans. Lord Seymour 
was ready to marry her to the young king, or, failing that, to 
marry her himself ; thus bringing himself into the track of a 
chance for the throne. His brother, the lord protector, was no 
whit behind him in plans touching Lady Jane ; for Mr. Howard 
quotes a letter from the Marquis of Dorset to the lord pro- 
tector, in which it comes out that Somerset himself was in 
treaty for Lady Jane, for his son, the Earl of Hertford. Being 
severed from the schemes of those unprincipled brothers by 
their successive deaths by the axe, Lady Jane fell into the toils 
of another still more upstart and unprincipled adventurer, 
Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, and perished as the victim 
of his treason. 

While these daring players for the stake of the crown of 
England were thus building their insolent projects on the 
alliance of Lady Jane, she was prosecuting, as if wholly un- 
conscious of them, her studies and philosophical inquiries 
with the profoundest pleasure to herself, and to the fame of her 
talents and goodness throughout Europe. Her Latin letters 
to Henry Bullinger, one of the most distinguished religious 
reformers of the age, still remain, and bear ample testimony 
to the elegance of her latinity, and the solid and far-seeing 
qualities of her mind, at the age of fourteen. They read not 
like the letters of a mere girl, but of a woman of mature years, 
full of experience and of the most conscientious and heartfelt 
interest in the progress and purification of the Church. 

In October, 1551, her father was raised by Edward the Sixth 



35o THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

to the dignity of the dukedom of Suffolk, vacant by the death 
of Henry Brandon, without issue ; and on the same day John 
Dudley, Earl of Warwick, was created Duke of Northumber- 
land. The fates were spinning in these ducal creations the 
deadly web of her own early destruction. 

This John Dudley was unquestionably the most rank and 
rapid fungus-growth of the extraordinary adventurers of that 
age. Who, indeed, was this towering Duke of Northumber- 
land ? In the reign of Henry the Seventh there figured con- 
spicuously two tools of that avaricious king, far above all 
others in the vileness of their rapacity. These two were the 
scoundrel lawyers, Empson and Dudley. They were the king's 
agents for extorting money by any means from his subjects. 
Lord Bacon says : "As kings do more easily find instruments 
for their will and humor, than for their service and honor, he 
had gotten for his purpose these two instruments, whom the 
people esteemed as his horse-leeches and shearers ; bold men 
and careless of fame, that took toll of their master's grist ; nay, 
turned law and justice into wormwood and rapine. They 
charged the owners of estates, which had long been held on a 
different tenure, with the obsolete burdens of wardships, liv- 
eries, premier seizins, and the whole array of feudal' obliga- 
tions, for which they would only give quittances for payment 
in money : they not only converted every offense into a case 
of fine and profit, but invented new offenses to get fines ; to 
hunt up their game, they kept packs of spies and informers 
in every part of the kingdom, and, to strike it down with legal 
forms, they kept a rabble to sit on juries. At length, they did 
not observe so much as the half-face of justice : they arrested 
men by precept, and tried them by jury in their own private 
houses. These and other courses, fitter to be buried than 
repeated, they had of preying upon the people, both like tame 
hawks for their master, and like wild hawks for themselves, 
insomuch that they grew to great riches and substance." 

The people were excited to desperation by these villainies ; 
and one of the very first acts of Henry the Eighth was to 
appease the popular fury by the arrest of these arch rogues, 
and, after a year's confinement in the Tower, striking off their 
heads. 

Such was Dudley and his infamous companion Empson. 
They had their heads taken off ; but the people's property 
which they had embezzled remained in their families, and 
Dudley's son by its means rose to an extraordinary height, 



LADY JANE GREY. 351 

and made a snatch at the crown : he fell, and many of his family 
with him ; yet we find his grandson, Robert Dudley, by his 
handsome exterior, captivating Queen Elizabeth, and made 
Earl of Leicester. When we read of the unprincipled deeds 
of Leicester, of the atrocious murder of his wife, and other 
acts which deserved a halter, we have only to remember the- 
stock whence he sprung, and our astonishment ceases. 

It was now the evil fortune of Lady Jane Grey to fall the 
sacrifice to the base ambition of Dudley, the son of the ex- 
tortioner. The times had favored the upward flight of many 
meaner birds of prey. The minoritv of the king had allowed 
them to get into his council ; and once there, they conferred 
on each other estates and the very highest titles with a lavish 
hand. By such means Dudley, the son of a man of such evil 
fame, stood in the royal presence clothed with the ancient 
dignity of the dukedom of Northumberland. The time was 
fast approaching for him to develop the full audacity of his 
nature. He began to cast his eyes on the innocent beauty of 
Lady Jane Grey, and to plan how he might by her mount even 
to the throne itself, if not for himself, yet for his family. 
The king's health was delicate ; Mary, his sister, was a catholic ; 
there was only Elizabeth betwixt Lady Jane and the crown 
if a protestant was to wear it. The temptation was too great 
for a man who had never shrunk from any crime which stood 
in the path of his aggrandizement. 

Lady Jane was yet but fourteen, but she had made her 
public appearance at court in her mother's train when on the 
occasion of the visit of Mary, queen-dowager of Scotland, 
to the king at Greenwich, she shortly afterwards became the 
guest of the Princess Mary. Fox recites an anecdote that 
occurred during the visit, which conspicuously displays the 
quickness of Lady Jane's wit. She was invited by Lady Anne 
Wharton to accompany her in a walk, and passing in their 
road the princess' chapel, Lady Anne made the customary 
obeisance of a catholic to a place of worship, from the Host 
always being contained therein. Lady Jane, not comprehending 
the object of her respect, asked if the Princess Mary were in 
the chapel ; and was answered, "No, but that she had made 
her courtesy to Him that made us all." "How can He be there 
that made us all," ingeniously observed Lady Jane, "when the 
baker made him ?" 

"This answer," says Fox, "coming to the Lady Mary's ears, 
she did never love her after." 



352 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Lady Jane had made powerful enemies by her faith and 
her too candid tongue ; but the worst enemy which she had was 
Dudley. This man was clearing his way of obstacles in his 
designs on the throne, and he now resolved to root up and 
destroy the most formidable of them all. This was the Duke 
of Somerset, the king's uncle. Somerset had resigned his 
protectorship three years before ; but while he lived and had 
access to the king, there could be no success for Dudley's 
ulterior views. At his instigation, therefore, Somerset was 
arrested in October, 1542, tried and condemned on charges of 
high treason in December, and on January 22, 1553, he was 
executed on Tower-hill. Dudley had done all in his power 
to steel the heart of Edward against his uncle, and spite of all 
natural relentings of the weak youth, and of the lively grief 
of the people, he had accomplished his object. 

The constitution of the king was now fast giving way. He 
had been attacked both by measles and smallpox, and while 
suffering under the debilitv they occasioned, he took a severe 
cold at the commencement of the year 1553, that is, im- 
mediately on the death of his uncle Somerset. No time was to 
be lost. Dudley now proposed a match between his son, Lord 
Guildford Dudley, and Lady Jane. This effected, he immedi- 
ately began to play on Edward's weakness and his anxiety for 
the preservation of the protestant cause. Henry the Eighth 
had left the crown to Edward, and failing issue, to Mary, and 
after her, in case she died without issue, to Elizabeth. Dudley 
now represented the certain destruction of protestantism should 
Mary ascend the throne ; and succeeded with the king in set- 
ting her aside. Elizabeth was protestant, and here lay Dudley's 
grand difficulty ; but he represented to the dying king, that to 
pass over Mary, and to adopt Elizabeth, would to the people 
have such an air of injustice as would make the change odious, 
and probably endanger its success altogether. Dudley, there- 
fore, proposed to revive the statutes of Henry the Eighth, 
which had declared both Mary and Elizabeth illegitimate, and 
pass on to the next heir. This, he represented, was his true 
protestant cousin, Lady Jane Grey. This was not the truth ; 
for the next heir to the crown would, in case of the disqualifi- 
cation of the two princesses, have been Mary, Queen of Scots, 
the descendant of the eldest sister of Henry the Eighth. 

But the dying king was in no condition to weigh carefully 
points of genealogv. His great concern was for protestantism, 
and that Dudley assured him was bound up with the succes- 



LADY JANE GREY. 353 

sion of Lady Jane. He gained his point with the expiring 
Edward, but not so easily with the lords of the council. To 
them the aim of Dudley was so apparent, and the procedure, 
as it regarded their own sanction, so perilous, that they pro- 
tested boldly and vehemently against the measure. Dudley 
was compelled to use both menaces and flattery. Sir Edward 
Montague, the chief justice of the cdmmon pleas; Sir Thomas 
Baker, Sir Thomas Bromley, two of the other judges ; and 
the attorney and solicitor-general, being summoned before the 
council and commanded to draw up the intended instrument 
in the form of letters patent, declined so responsible an act. 
They stated truly, that the settlement as arranged by Henry the 
Eighth was confirmed by act of parliament, that nothing but 
parliament could reverse it, and advised an immediate sum- 
mons of that assembly. This, however, would have ill suited 
Dudley's plans ; and the judges remaining obstinate, he is re- 
ported to have called Montague a traitor, and declared that he 
would fight any man in his shirt, in so just a cause as the suc- 
cession of Lady Jane. Montague then proposed that the king 
and council should by special commission require the judges 
to draw up a patent for the new settlement of the crown, ac- 
companied by a pardon for any offense they might have com- 
mitted by obeying the mandate. This satisfied the council 
and some of the judges; but the chancellor refused to affix 
the great seal to the instrument till the judges had previously 
signed it. All, under the effect of promises or menaces, signed 
it, but Judge Hales, who, though a protestant, steadily re- 
fused. Still the chancellor refused to affix the great seal until 
all the privy-councillors had signed it ; and this, too, Northum- 
berland was able to accomplish. 

Such were the difficulties through which Dudley had to force 
this obnoxious act. Nothing could in its nature be more op- 
posed to the pure and virtuous character of Lady Jane Grey : 
nothing could be more revolting than to see so noble and un- 
worldly a character thus involved in the ambitious schemes 
of a bold bad man like Dudley. When, therefore, he an- 
nounced to her on the king's decease that she was Queen of 
England, so far from being elated, she received the news with 
the greatest sorrow. She resolutely refused the proffered dig- 
nity, urging with no less sense than justice, the rights of her 
cousins, Mary and Elizabeth. She declared, as Heylin says, 
half-drowned in tears, that the laws of the kingdom, and 
natural right, standing for the king's sister, she would beware 



354 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

of burdening her weak conscience with a yoke that did not 
belong to it ; that she understood the infamy of those who had 
permitted the violation of right to gain a scepter; that it were 
to mock God and deride justice, to scruple at the stealing of a 
shilling, and not at the usurpation of a crown. And she 
added, with a full sense of the real jeopardy of the enterprise, 
"If I now permit Fortune to adorn and crown me, I must 
tomorrow suffer her to crush and tear me to pieces." 

Such we may receive as the honest and deliberate resolve of 
Lady Jane ; but what was the chance of resistance to the over- 
bearing will of Dudley in a girl of seventeen, whom he had 
taken care to have wholly in his power. The council, the 
judges, and the lord chancellor had not been able to maintain 
their opposition against him, and vain, therefore, was the 
struggle of this wise and virtuous, but politically weak and 
unassisted maiden. She could only weep and protest. She 
stood alone in her righteous resolve. She was a lamb amongst 
wolves. Her parents, her own immediate relatives, her hus- 
band were all united in the alluring but fatal conspiracy against 
her. They were all impatient to lift themselves to royalty in 
her name. "Lord Guildford," Mr. Howard remarks, "dazzled 
by so brilliant a destiny, was prevailed on to add the accents 
of love to the wiles of ambition, and beyond this, female forti- 
tude could not be expected to go." And Sir Harris Nicolas 
adus. that "A motive to her acquiescence more powerful than 
any that have been hitherto attributed to her, is to be found 
in the reflection which must have occurred to her of the im- 
minent danger in which those nearest to her heart were placed, 
and which nothing but her possession of royalty could avert. 
The failure of a treasonable plot never fails to produce the 
destruction of those who created it, and she might expect that 
the hour which saw Mary secure on the throne, would be the last 
of the existence of her father and the father of her husband. 
This dreadful truth naturally induced her to adopt the only 
step which could possibly secure their safety. Her character 
thus appears in a new and more lovely light : we see her thus 
consenting to incur the utmost personal peril, by adopting a 
course contrary to the dictates of her conscience, in the desper- 
ate hope of preserving her family." 

Her consent thus extorted, she was the next day conveyed 
by Dudley, her father-in-law, with great state to the Tower, 
and immediately afterwards proclaimed Queen of England. 

The result justified the fears of both Lady Jane and the 



LADY JAXE GREY. 355 

privy-council. Her proclamation was heard in silence and 
with regret. The council had ordered it to be made throughout 
the country ; but they were obeyed only in London and its 
neighborhood, and there with evident reluctance. 

The Princess Mary lost no time in asserting her claim. She 
wrote to the privy-council claiming the crown, and expressing 
her surprise that the demise of her brother had not been duly 
notified to her. This done, she fled with all speed to Suffolk, 
and secured herself in Framlingham Castle, where she raised, 
the royal standard, and assumed the royal title. The answer 
of the council, under the dictation of Dudley, was one of studied 
insult ; and the pure-minded Lady Jane was compelled to see 
letters written in her name to, and concerning, the rightful 
heiress of the throne, in which Mary is treated as the "bastard 
daughter" of Henry the Eighth, and all true lieges are called 
upon to resist her "feigned and untrue claim." It is impos- 
sible to conceive a situation more agonizing and humiliating 
than that of Lady Jane Grey at this moment. She was com- 
pelled to be in the wrong, and to insult and do violence to the 
right. She felt that all justice, honor, and virtue were against 
her; that conscience and heaven were opposed to the claims 
set up in her name ; and that the condemnation of the world 
and posterity were inevitable. What a martyrdom for a soul 
that in its truth and magnanimous greatness was in reality 
above all her age ! 

The rapid success of Mary's arms left no question as to the 
result. Everywhere she was received with enthusiastic ac- 
clamation. People on all sides crowded to her standard. On 
the other hand, nothing but coldness and desertion attended 
Dudley and his movements. Suspicious of the council and the 
court, he dreaded to quit London ; and he was, therefore, com- 
pelled to place Lady Jane's father, the Duke of Suffolk, at the 
head of the forces sent to oppose the progress of Mary. But 
the known unfitness of Suffolk for such a command, and the 
entreaties of Lady Jane, obliged Dudley finally to resume the 
direction of the troops in person. 

On the 14th of July, 1553, Dudley, accompanied by the 
Marquis of Northampton. Lord Grey," and several other per- 
sons of rank, proceeded to meet Mary's forces. Their forces 
amounted, horse and foot, to ten thousand ; but on arriving 
at St. Edmond's Bury, they found Mary's forces amounted 
to double the number. Everywhere the nobility and people 
were flocking: to Mary's standard, while Dudley's camp was 



356 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

deserting in crowds. On reaching Cambridge, the cause grew 
still more hopeless ; and the final blow to Dudley's courage was 
given by the arrival of the news that the privy-council in 
London had deserted to Queen Mary ; that the lord mayor 
and aldermen had been sent for, and that Mary had been pro- 
claimed amid the most vehement acclamations. On hearing 
this, the heart of Dudley, that genuine son of Belial, died in 
him, like that of Nabal of old, and his base and craven nature 
displayed itself most contemptibly. He flung his cap up in 
Cambridge market-place, proclaiming Queen Mary himself 
while the tears ran down his cheeks. To Dr. Sandys, who was 
standing by, he said whisperingly, that "Queen Mary was a 
merciful woman, and that doubtless they should all receive a 
pardon." But Dr. Sandys bade him not flatter himself with any 
such thing ; that however the queen might be inclined, those 
about her would destroy him, whoever else were spared. 

Then was this base Dudley arrested by Sir John Gates, one 
of his own most guilty agents, as he was sitting with his boots 
half on and half off. The Earl of Arundel arrived with a 
body of the queen's troops, and seizing Dudley, Gates, and 
Dr. Sandys, regardless of Dudley's pitiful kneeling to him 
and craving pardon, sent them all to London, and to the Tower, 
where, on the 18th of August, Northumberland and two> of his 
most guilty associates were beheaded. 

Mary, now firmly seated on the throne, showed no vindictive 
desire to punish her enemies. On the contrary, although Lady 
Jane and her husband, Lord Guildford Dudley, with two of his 
brothers, were formally arraigned and condemned to death, 
there was no haste made to execute the sentence. The Duke of 
Suffolk was liberated after three days' imprisonment ; and so 
little was Mary disposed to severity, that she afterwards in- 
tended to employ Suffolk to suppress the insurrection of Sir 
Thomas Wyatt. Nothing can more clearly demonstrate how 
thoroughly Mary relied on Suffolk's professions of regret for 
having opposed her claims. She was well aware that Dudley 
had been the grand mover and compeller of the attempt to set 
up Lady Jane Grey. She was well aware of the real character 
of Lady Jane — of the repugnance she had shown to being made 
the instrument of Northumberland's treason, and of the gen- 
eral sympathy of the people in Lady Jane's unmerited position. 
There can, therefore, be no doubt but that, had the national 
affairs now subsided into a calm, the life of Lady Jane would 



LADY JANE GREY. 357 

have been spared. But she was destined to perish for the fol- 
lies and crimes of her relatives. 

Mary's cordial reception and support by her people, it is 
evident, had the best effect on her mind and on those of her 
counsellors. Though eleven of the coadjutors of Northumber- 
land were condemned to die, two only were executed. But 
when Mary announced her intention -to marry a catholic, Philip 
of Spain, the scene changed. This was too much for the affec- 
tions of her people, so lately rescued from the bondage of 
popery ; and the protestant party, under Sir Thomas Wyatt 
in Kent, and Sir Peter Carew in Devon, came forth in arms 
to oppose it. Still, this would not have affected the safety of 
Lady Jane Grey, for, as we have noted, Mary, relying on the 
Duke of Suffolk's newly-protested fidelity, was thinking of 
putting him at the head of her troops to arrest the approach 
of Wyatt, when to her consternation she learnt that that in- 
fatuated nobleman had fled to the midland counties in the hope 
of raising them and joining Wyatt and Carew, so as to restore 
his daughter's claim to the crown. This was the sentence of 
death to Lady Jane. The queen was still reluctant to sign 
a warrant. for that purpose; but Wyatt having marched on 
London with 15,000 men, dispersed the forces sent against 
him, and, reaching London, did stout battle in the streets, 
and at Charing Cross, within view of the queen herself at 
Whitehall, it was deemed absolutely necessary that Lady Jane 
should be executed, to take away all future occasion of rising 
in her behalf. As Baker, in his "Chronicle," quaintly observes, 
"The innocent lady must now suffer for her father's fault." 

There is no passage in history more familiar to readers than 
that of the execution of Lady Jane Grey and her husband, 
Lord Guildford Dudley. Feckenham, the Queen's confessor, 
was sent to announce to her the awful tidings that she must 
die the next day. She received the information with resigna- 
tion, and told Feckenham that she had long expected it. Feck- 
enham exerted himself to convert her at this last hour to the 
catholic faith, but in vain. Lady Jane desiring to have some 
time to prepare herself for death, Feckenham repeated this to 
the queen, who granted a reprieve of three days ; and this time 
Feckenham industriously employed in endeavoring to win over 
the youthful victim to his faith. 

Lady Jane Grey and her husband had been from the first 
confined in separate apartments. Guildford on the morning 
of the execution urgently requested to be allowed a last in- 



358 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

terview ; but Lady Jane, dreading the effect of a scene that 
was likely to overwhelm them both with sorrow, declined it, 
reminding him that their separation would only be for a 
moment ; and that they were, in reality ,about to meet where 
their affections would be united forever. Lord Guildford was 
first led to his fate, and, when passing under the window of his 
wife, obtained a last token of her love and remembrance. As 
Lady Jane herself was proceeding from her prison to the scaf- 
fold, she had to endure the task of meeting the headless corpse 
of her husband Conveyed from the place of execution. This 
appalling sight overwhelmed her with grief, but did not shake 
the fortitude of her demeanor. She was conducted to the 
scaffold by Sir John Brydges, the lieutenant of the Tower, and 
was entirely occupied in the perusal of a book of prayers, 
though Fox asserts that her devotions were continually inter- 
rupted by Feckenham. She mounted the scaffold without 
hesitation, and addressed the assembled crowd in a short 
speech, in which she admitted her crime against the queen, but 
protested that she was innocent of either wishing or procuring 
the royal dignity. She called on those who heard her to bear 
witness that she died a true Christian woman, expecting salva- 
tion only through the mercy of God in the merits of the blood 
of his Son Jesus Christ. She thanked God for his goodness 
in allowing her time to repent of whatever sins she might have 
committed, and concluded by requesting them to assist her by 
their prayers. The axe fell, and in the words of Sir Harris 
Nicolas, "the world closed forever on one of the most inter- 
esting women that ever adorned it." 

The father of Lady Jane Grey, the ultimate cause of her 
untimely end, was executed on Tower-hill on the 23d of Feb- 
ruary, 1554, eleven days after his daughter and son-in-law 
had thus fallen victims to his ambition. 

The biographers of Lady Jane have almost universally as- 
serted that she wrote three epigrams — one in Greek, one in 
Latin, and the third in English — on seeing her husband's dead 
body, but it appears at least doubtful that this was the case. 
At all events there remains not a shadow of evidence to sup- 
port the assertion ; and it appears as little consonant with her 
state of feeling at that moment, as possible from the brief and 
passing instant allowed for it. What is more extraordinary 
is, that no one of her numerous biographers have told us how 
and where she- was buried ; and it is equally extraordinary that 
no monument of so celebrated a character, or of her husband, 



LADY JANE GREY. 359 

should exist. The presumption is, that they were both buried 
tn the chapel of the Tower; but the historian of that fortress 
has not been able to find any conclusive evidence of the place 
where their remains were deposited. 

Thus, while tombs have been raised of most magnificent 
character in the vain attempt to perpetuate worthless memories, 
the ashes of one of the most interesting and injured victims 
of state policy remain, and probably will remain, forever lost 
in the oblivion of unknown earth. Modern researches, how- 
ever, have discovered one monument of her, of a peculiarly 
touching nature. It is the words, Jane, Jane, carved out rudely 
as by a nail on the walls of the apartment in the Tower where 
her husband is supposed to have been confined. In that single 
word, thus found, there lies more true pathos than in the most 
elaborate eulogium on the most regal tombs. It is the lament 
of bereaved affection and of sympathy in death over the ap- 
proaching fate of one whose youth, whose simple beauty, whose 
talents and whose piety will forever mingle in the story of her 
death, and give it an imperishable interest in the hearts of all 
coming ages. 



MARY THE FIRST, 

QUEEN REGNANT OF ENGLAND. 

Few queens have encountered during youth so many or such 
trying vicissitudes as fell to the lot of Mary, the only child 
of Henry the Eighth and Katharine of Arragon, the first queen- 
regnant of England. The historians, who would fairly repre- 
sent the character and conduct of this queen, should take into 
account the treatment she received at a period of life when it 
was most calculated to have a bad effect on her. Whether 
we look back on the splendor and state with which the early 
years of her childhood were surrounded, or on the sudden re- 
verse from regal magnificence to almost positive privation, to 
which the reckless caprice of her royal father exposed her, 
it must be admitted that both were highly detrimental to the 
formation of her character ; and this reflection should serve 
as an extenuation for many of the faults which in after-life 
drew on her the censure of historians and the dislike of pos- 
terity. Mary entered life at Greenwich Palace on the 18th of 
February, 1516. Although the birth of a daughter must have 
been some disappointment to Henry, who so earnestly desired 
to have a male heir to the throne, he had the good feeling to 
abstain from revealing it, and received the Princess Mary as 
graciously as he had done the two sons which the queen had 
previously presented him, and whose premature deaths had 
occasioned both their parents so much regret. The royal in- 
fant was consigned to the care of the Countess of Salisbury, 
a lady whose high character equaled her distinguished birth, 
and proved the wisdom of the queen's selection of her. To 
Katharine Pole was confided the nurture of the princess, so 
that no ignoble blood should mingle with that of the royal 
stream that flowed in her veins, her wet-nurse being in no 
remote degree connected with the Countess of Salisbury. The 
splendor of the preparations for the baptism, and the rich gifts 
presented to the infant, are satisfactory evidence that her birth 

360 



MARY THE FIRST. 361 

was known to be gratifying to the king. The ceremony took 
place at the Grey Friars' church, which was contiguous to the 
palace in which she was born, three days after her birth, the 
Princess Katharine Plantagenet and the Duchess of Norfolk 
serving as her godmothers, and Cardinal Wolsey as her god- 
father. No ceremonial of regal state was omitted on this 
solemn occasion. A grand procession, formed of the noblest 
in the land, accompanied the Countess of Salisbury, who bore 
the infant to the church, and a guard of knights-banneret en- 
circled it. It was not the sponsors alone who bestowed costly 
gifts on the Princess Mary, her relations vied with each other 
in their offerings. 

This child, unlike the two infant princes who had preceded 
her, was extremely healthy. She passed che first two or three 
years of her life beneath the immediate care of her mother, 
often caressed by the king, who delighted in fondling her, and 
taking her in his arms. When Mary was weaned her wet-nurse, 
Katharine Pole, was dismissed, and the Lady Margaret Bryan 
became attached to the nursery establishment of the young 
princess ; the Countess of Salisbury retaining her appointment 
of state-governess, and directress of the household, the ex- 
penditure of which was wholly confided to her. The establish- 
ment was on a princely scale, including a chamberlain, a treas- 
urer, and an accountant, a lady of the bedchamber, a chaplain, 
a clerk of the closet, and a numerous retinue of domestics of 
a subordinate grade, maintained at considerable cost. Ditton 
Park, in Buckinghamshire, was chosen as the residence for the 
heiress-apparent to the throne, its vicinity to Windsor Castle 
affording a facility for the child being frequently taken to the 
queen. So soon had the education of Mary commenced, that 
when only three years old its fruits were visible in her dignified 
demeanor, rational remarks, and courteous reception of those 
permitted to approach her. It is asserted that she played on 
the virginals with considerable skill at an age when children 
are supposed to be too young to commence the study of music, 
and that she acquitted herself to the admiration of her hearers : 
this last part of the statement may be easily believed, when we 
consider how prone those admitted to the presence of royalty 
are to exaggerate the accomplishments attributed to every 
branch of it. During the absence of Henry and Katharine in 
France, to grace the Field of the Cloth of Gold, they were 
furnished with frequent details of the welfare of their daughter 
by the privy council, who visited her at the palace at Richmond, 



362 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

where she then took up her abode. Mary is described as being, 
at that period, not only a healthy, but a handsome child, of a 
lively disposition. The custom of offering rich gifts to royalty 
at Christmas, and on other festivals, was then much practiced ; 
and those presented to the princess by her relatives, sponsors, 
and the nobility of the court, were very costly ; those offered 
by her godfather, Cardinal Wolsey, being the most so of all. 

Mary had attained her sixth year, when the Emperor Charles 
the Fifth visited England, and a treaty of marriage was en- 
tered into, as stated in the life of Katharine of Arragon. The 
emperor quitted England, leaving the youthful princess fully 
impressed with the belief that she was one day to become his 
bride. 

Katharine was most desirous that her daughter should prove 
worthy of the elevated station she was expected to fill ; and to 
effect this point she consulted Ludovicus Vives, a man esteemed 
among the most learned of his time, on the education of the 
Princess Mary. His instructions bear the evidence not only 
of his erudition, but of his strict morality; for he prohibited 
the perusal of all light books, as calculated to draw her atten- 
tion from graver ones, and to corrupt her imagination, while 
he recommended serious and religious works, of which he 
sent a list. Of the child's natural abilities and application a 
notion may be formed by the fact, that at eight years old she 
was able to translate Latin into English with a facility that 
merited the commendations of her preceptor. 

While Mary was pursuing a system of education that left but 
too little time for the indulgence of the pleasures of childhood 
— pleasures as necessary for health in the first stage of youth 
as sunshine is for the expansion of flowers — Henry was begin- 
ning to entertain a project that must inevitably lead to the 
destruction of the treaty, which had in all probability induced 
the queen to adopt so rigid a code. 

The divorce of the mother, the niece of the Emperor of 
Spain, must, of course, annihilate every prospect of the mar- 
riage of the daughter with that sovereign. 

But while Henry was meditating the most cruel injury he 
could inflict on the mother, he was lavishing on his daughter 
all the gauds of state and all the splendor befitting the heiress 
of his kingdom. With a character like his, in which dissimula- 
tion formed so striking a feature, it may be surmised that this 
ostentatious exhibition of Mary as the successor to his throne 
may have originated in a scheme to procure her some advan- 



MARY THE FIRST. .363 

tageous marriage before his divorce. Well aware that the 
very plea he meant to urge for the attainment of this divorce 
must, if allowed, destroy her claim to the crown by fixing 
the stigma of illegitimacy on her birth, it could only be for 
the purpose of imposing on some royal suitor for her hand that 
he caused her to assume the state in which she lived in Ludlow 
Castle, where she held a court suitable only to the heiress of the 
kingdom. How hard and selfish must his heart have been, 
who, to accomplish the imposition he contemplated, could, care- 
less of its consequences to his only child, elevate her to the high 
pinnacle of splendor only to hurl her, whenever it suited his 
convenience, to a state of dependence renderd doubly pain- 
ful and insupportable by the force of contrast. For nearly 
two years the Princess Mary held her court at Ludlow Castle, 
enacting, as far as one of her tender years could do, the stately 
part of queen, Henry during that period turning his thoughts 
to finding a husband for her. 

It is asserted that had not Francis the First been betrothed 
to Eleanor of Austria, he might have been induced by the 
repeated efforts of Henry to wed his daughter ; but Francis 
too well knew the character and fierte of the Emperor Charles 
the Fifth to risk incurring his enmity by breaking off his en- 
gagement with his sister. 

That Francis was well inclined towards an alliance with 
England may be judged by his desire that Mary should wed 
his son, the Duke of Orleans ; to effect which marriage negoti- 
ations were some months after entered into that occasioned 
fatal results to Queen Katharine and most painful ones to her 
daughter, by calling into question the validity of the marriage 
between Henry and Katharine, and the consequent illegitimacy 
of the Princess Mary. Whether there was any foundation for 
the statement that the Bishop of Tarbes, then ambassador from 
France to the English court, had ever doubted the legitimacy 
of Mary, may well be questioned, notwithstanding Speed's 
authority for it, when one reflects on how good an excuse 
such a doubt would furnish to Henry for seeking a divorce — 
a measure which he had long secretly contemplated and 
anxiously desired, and for which he was some time paving the 
way by hypocritical declarations to his confessor of scruples 
of conscience, never hinted at until his affection for Katharine 
was gone, and which, judging from Henry's character, he never 
really felt. No notion of forming an alliance between Mary 
and Henry, Duke of Orleans, was ever contemplated by Henry 



364 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

until the Emperor Charles the Fifth had indignantly renounced 
the fulfilment of his engagement with the princess in conse- 
quence of his having discovered, secretly as Henry wished it 
to be kept, that he intended to divorce Katharine ; which proves 
that it was not the doubt of the Bishop of Tarbes, if indeed 
he had ever entertained a doubt with regard to the illegitimacy 
of Mary; that had instigated the king to such a measure, al- 
though such was the pretext made by Henry to allay the just 
anger of Katharine when she discovered his intention. No 
diminution of Henry's affection for his daughter appears to 
have taken place until he discovered that she was so much be- 
loved by the people that they would ill brook seeing her set 
aside by any new heir to the kingdom. He likewise saw that 
the princess was so fondlv attached to the queen, her mother, 
that her degradation from the throne would inflict deep sorrow 
on her daughter. Aught that interfered with the gratification 
of his own selfish views excited his anger and. impatience ; 
hence he began to feel as indisposed towards his daughter as 
to her mother, and was ready to sacrifice both to the indulgence 
of his passion and unbridled resentment. Although Henry was 
urging proceedings for the divorce, he still maintained an ap- 
pearance of amity with Katharine and their daughter, and no 
change in the princely state of either was for some time at- 
tempted. But this appearance of amity did not long continue. 
Henry finally parted from Katharine in 1531, and separated 
the Princess Mary from her mother at a period when each 
most required the consolation of being together. The letters 
written by Katharine to her daughter after their separation 
breathe a spirit of resignation and good sense, mingled with a 
becoming dignity, that do honor to her character. Out of 
consideration to the feelings of Mary, which had been so 
acutely touched as to cause her a long and dangerous illness, 
she concealed her own sorrow, and affected a cheerfulness 
which she must have been far from possessing. In vain did the 
bereaved mother entreat that her child might be permitted to 
visit her : she was denied this boon, and never more saw the 
daughter on whom she doted. 

The marriage of Henry with Anne Boleyn, early in 1533, 
brought new mortifications to Mary, by making her feel her 
altered position. She was commanded, on the birth of Eliza- 
beth, henceforth to renounce the title of princess, which was to 
be given solely to the infant daughter of Anne Boleyn, whom 
Henrv now declared to be the heiress to the throne, unless a 



MARY THE FIRST. 365 

son should be born to him. But neither commands nor menaces 
could shake the firmness of Mary, who could not be persuaded 
to bestow any other appellation on the child than that of 
"Sister." Those commands, coming through Hussey, her 
chamberlain, she affected to disbelieve them. Henry did not, 
however, permit her to continue long in doubt that the order 
for her removal, as also that of her resigning the title of 
princess, had emanated from him, for he sent to her the Duke 
of Norfolk, and some other noblemen, to see that his com- 
mands were carried into effect, at the very time when the Duke 
of Suffolk, and others of the council, were breaking up her 
mother's establishment at Bugden. 

That Anne Boleyn might be concerned in urging this sever- 
ity may be strongly suspected, for, as long as Mary was treated 
as princess, Anne's jealousy may have led her to doubt its en- 
dangering the position of her own daughter Elizabeth ; and 
that Anne Boleyn was jealous of Katharine of Arragon and 
the Princess Mary, was afterwards proved by the indecent joy 
she exhibited on the death of Katharine, and her late remorse, 
when, condemned to death, she deplored her unkindness to 
Mary, and, on her knees, implored pardon for it. But, not 
satisfied with depriving Mary of her title and establishment, 
Henry, as ruthless towards his own child as he had proved 
himself to her mother, determined on legalizing his injustice, 
and had an act of parliament passed, securing the succession 
to the children of Anne Boleyn. After this step, Mary's 
establishment being dispersed, she was sent to Hunsdon, where 
that of her infant sister had now been formed in a style of 
regal splendor, befitting the heiress to the crown. 

A system of espionage was practiced against Mary at 
Hunsdon, that proves how narrowly she was watched. Her 
true friend and relative, the Countess of Silisbury, who, dur- 
ing her infancy, had been a second mother to her, was torn 
from her. Her coffers were surreptitiously opened, her papers 
seized, the few friends who persevered in. treating her' with 
the same respect as formerly were punished, and she was strict- 
ly prohibited from writing. The firmness with which she had 
resisted the efforts and menaces used to compel her to acknowl- 
edge her own illegitimacy, and the supremacy of Henry in the 
Church, had so angered him against her as to lead to his utter- 
ing curses, not only "loud but deep," against her, and gave rise 
to whispered rumors that the lives of Mary and her mother 
were no longer safe. Charles the Fifth heard not these rumors 



366 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

unmoved. He indignantly reproached Henry for his treat- 
ment of Katharine and her daughter, a step which his near 
relationship to them entitled him to take, and, perhaps, had 
he not interfered, the tyrant Henry might have resorted to the 
last extremity towards his injured wife and daughter. 

The health of Mary now began to fail, and Katharine, who 
felt her own end approaching, vainly, as we have seen, solicited 
to be permitted to see her daughter, or, if this boon were 
denied, to be allowed to draw nearer to her. Anne Boleyn 
did not long survive her predecessor. The death of Katharine, 
so long desired by her as the sole object to complete her felicity, 
bestowed but a short- lived triumph, for she soon after learned 
to commiserate, by her own sad experience, the pangs which 
Katharine must have felt, when she saw the affections of her 
husband transferred to another. The degradation and death 
of Anne, followed by the declaration of the illegitimacy of her 
daughter Elizabeth, produced little change in the position of 
Mary, until the influence of Anne's successor, Jane Seymour, 
was exercised in her favor. 

The letter of congratulation addressed by Mary to the king, 
on bis marriage, is so full of humility and promises of "hence- 
forth avoiding all causes of offense," and "submitting herself 
in all things to his goodness and pleasure, to do with her what- 
soever shall please his grace," that we may conclude her firm- 
ness hitherto in refusing to acknowledge herself illegitimate 
originated in her respect to the feelings of her mother, rather 
than in any pride or obstinacy in upholding her own right, 
and gives her a strong claim to our respect. But this humility 
and repentance did not, for a considerable time, make any im- 
pression on the stubborn heart of Henry, and he allowed some 
weeks to elapse, after she had consented to own her illegitimacy, 
before he condescended to vouchsafe his pardon for her offenses. 

And now Mary and Elizabeth, branded with the stigma of 
illegitimacy, were placed in a similar position. A private 
establishment was formed for both, and Mary became the pro- 
tectress of her sister, as the following passage in one of her 
letters to the king testifies : "My sister Elizabeth is in good 
health (thanks to our Lord), and such a child toward, as I 
doubt not, but your highness shall have cause to rejoice of in 
time coming (as knoweth Almighty God), who send your grace, 
time with the queen, my good mother, health, with the accom- 
plishment of your desires." 



MARY THE FIRST. 367 

There was no less generosity than courage in Mary's thus 
recalling Elizabeth to the recollection, and in recommending 
her to the good will, of Henry, for it was then well known 
that he entertained strong, though unjust, doubts of her being 
his child; and so much obloquy has been cast on the fame of 
Mary, that we would fain, while recording the stern truths 
alleged against her, not pass over unnoticed any fact that 
throws a favorable light on her character. 

During the years that Mary, was living in seclusion with 
Elizabeth at Hunsdon, she was neither forgotten by the sub- 
jects of her father, nor left unsought by royal suitors for her 
hand. James the Fifth formally solicited her for his bride 
while Anne Boleyn still held all her influence over Henry's 
heart, and perhaps it was this influence that led to the rejection 
of the proposal of James, as Anne Boleyn might naturally 
dread a marriage for her stepdaughter which might subse- 
quently injure the interests of her own offspring. Be the 
motives" what they may, the offer of James the Fifth was re- 
fused, and this chance of escaping from her heavy trials was 
denied the unhappy Mary. It is doubtful whether any reliance 
may be placed in the romantic attachment supposed to have 
existed between Mary and Reginald Pole. Frequent opportuni- 
ties of meeting must have offered while the Countess of Salis- 
bury, his mother, was the governess of the princess ; and a 
man so remarkable, not only for his personal attractions, but 
for his mental superiority and grace of manners, might very 
naturally be supposed to make a deep impression on the heart 
of a young person so devoted to serious studies, and so pre- 
cluded from seeing other men. That Katharine of Arragon 
wished such an alliance to take place, more than one historian 
asserts; but neither in early youth, nor afterwards, have we 
any proof that Mary entertained for this distinguished man 
any warmer feeling than the friendship due to the son of her 
fond and faithful friend, and the courageous opposer of the 
divorce of her beloved mother. 

Few men of this time were more esteemed and respected 
than Reginald Pole. Even the coarse-minded and selfish 
Henry could not resist the attraction possessed by this noble 
scion of the proud Piantagenets, and he permitted him, at the 
commencement, a freedom of speech on the dangerous subject 
of the divorce, which testified the affection he must have felt 
for him. Had Reginald yielded his assent to the divorce, in- 
stead of having opposed it, the tragical fate of his mother and 



368 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

brother, some years after, might have been spared, for the 
influence of a mind like his must have tempered the natural 
ferocity of Henry. The part taken by Cromwell, in the dis- 
grace of Mary, redounds little to his credit. He had an interest 
in degrading both Mary and Elizabeth, as his son had married 
the sister of Jane Seymour, and therefore all the endeavors of 
this base and vulgar upstart were bent to aggrandize the off- 
spring of Queen Jane. The undissembled insolence with which 
he dictates to, rather than advises her, in his letters, betrays a 
very ungenerous spirit and a very unfeeling mind ; nor did he 
cease to menace her until she signed a submission to the 
articles which were made the conditions of Henry's pardon. 
How must it have galled her pride and lacerated her heart, to 
admit that the marriage of her parents was incestuous, that 
her own birth was illegitimate ; and how must her conscience 
have been wounded by subscribing to the supremacy of Henry 
over the Church, and the denial of the pope's authority, which 
authority had been exercised to pronounce the marriage of 
her mother valid and her own birth legitimate However pos- 
terity may censure Mary for so absolute a submission, the terms 
of which must have so deeply humiliated her, it should be re- 
membered that she did not consent, however great her suffer- 
ings, to make it, until her mother had been long laid in her 
peaceful grave, and that her feelings could no longer suffer 
from this enforced submission of her daughter. Who can say 
how this enforced violence offered to her conscience may have 
actuated Mary in after-life to mistaken and indefensible acts 
to atone for it? 

Mary having now drained the bitter cup of humiliation to 
its dregs by the renunciation of ail her claims and conscien- 
tious scruples, reaped the inadequate reward of such painful 
sacrifices by having an establishment assigned her at Hunsdon 
with her sister, the little Elizabeth ; and though it was formed 
on a scale of the strictest economy, she was less unhappy in 
this humble seclusion than when the contrast of the splendor 
allotted to Elizabeth made her daily feel the sorrowful change 
in her own position. In the tranquil solitude of Hunsdon, 
Mary continued with unabated perseverance those studies for 
which she had so early evinced a peculiar taste. She read 
much, studied not only Latin, in which she made a great pro- 
ficiency, but made herself mistress of the French, Spanish, 
and Italian languages. She paid great attention to geography, 



MARY THE FIRST. 369 

mathematics, and astronomy, yet found time for practicing on 
the virginals and lute. 

Though no longer looked on as heiress to the crown, this 
change in her position did not prevent the question of Mary's 
marriage with Henry, Duke of Orleans, being again brought 
on the tapis by France. But, as formerly, it was suffered to 
die away without any satisfactory Jesuit, for the king took 
little trouble at that period about the future position of his 
daughter, who, not being yet permitted to enter his presence, 
notwithstanding her entire submission to his will, occupied 
little of his thoughts. When she was admitted to court, it 
may have been through the interference of the queen in her 
favor, and her first appearance there is said to have been at 
Christmas, 1536. From this period Henry not only relaxed 
in his severity towards her, but evinced a return of his former 
affection, and the queen treated her with unvaried kindness. 
It is infinitely to her honor that, when she was restored to 
favor she did not neglect her sister Elizabeth, to whom she 
took especial care that some portion of the sunshine permitted 
her should extend ; for mention is made of the presence of 
Elizabeth with Mary at the baptism of Prince Edward, and of 
her retaining the child with her in her apartments in Hamp- 
ton Court Palace. The dress of Mary at the christening was 
so rich as to prove that Henry must have bestowed on her 
some, if not all, of the fine jewels of her mother, and the large- 
ness 'of the pecuniary gifts she presented to the different persons 
appertaining to the queen on that occasion, as well as the 
extent of her charities, testify that her allowance must have 
been greatly increased. The baptismal ceremonies of Prince 
Edward were soon followed by the funeral ones of Jane Sey- 
mour, his mother, at which Mary enacted the part of chief 
mourner, after which she took up her abode with the king at 
Windsor Castle, until the court removed to Richmond Palace 
for the celebration of the Christmas festivities. Several en- 
tries in the "Privy-purse Expenses" contain notices of the 
sums lost by Mary at cards during her residence at court, — 
entries which confirm the reports of the love of gaming at- 
tributed to Henry. In 1537, the hand of Mary was solicited 
by the Prince of Portugal, but this treaty, like others of a 
similar nature, produced no result, and Mary herself not only 
evinced perfect indifference towards her suitors, but often 
expressed her desire of leading -a single life. Mary incurred 
great danger in the following year, owing to the Catholic insur- 



370 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

gents in the north of England praying for her restoration to 
her former rank. The severity with which Henry caused 
these men to be pursued, and the blood shed as a punishment 
for their outbreak, must have terrified Mary for her own safe- 
ty, so greatly endangered by their injudicious revival of her 
claims, while the cruelties practiced towards the unfortunate 
victims must have hardened her heart even while it horrified 
her. The scaffold was deluged with some of the best blood in 
England, and the flames which ascended from the stake toward 
heaven, filled the nation with terror and horror — neither age 
nor sex were spared. Superstition urged on vengeance, and 
a charge of sorcery was sufficient to condemn a helpless woman. 
Lady Bulmer, to the flames ! 

The next claimant for the hand of Mary was the Duke of 
Cleves, but this proposed marriage, like all former ones, went 
off, probably because she was, pending the negotiations, 
termed "the king's natural daughter," which must have been 
a serious obstacle in the eyes of so formal a family as that of 
Cleves. It might be urged that the declaration of Mary's ille- 
gitimacy had been already universally known before this union 
had been contemplated ; but it should be borne in mind that 
Henry had so often hinted that he could as easily raise her to 
her former position as he had hurled her from it, that expecta- 
tions might have been entertained that in default of male issue, 
Mary might one day be called to fill the throne ; and as Prince 
Edward was the only male heir that stood between her and it, 
the Duke of Cleves probably viewed her as heiress in pros- 
pective. 

Severely were the feelings of Mary tried in the following 
year by the ruin that overwhelmed a family in whom she took 
a deep and affectionate interest. The friend and guardian of 
her childhood, the Countess of Salisbury, to whom she was 
tenderly attached, was imprisoned in the Tower, her property 
seized, and, in her advanced age and its consequent infirmities, 
she was by the malice of her foes deprived of not only the 
common comforts of life, but even of strict necessaries. Her 
son, the Lord Montague, was beheaded, and her near and dear 
relative, the Marquis of Exeter, suffered the same fate. If 
the misfortunes of those so dear to her could receive aggrava- 
tion in her mind, it must have been furnished by the con- 
sciousness that to their consanguinity and affection for Reg- 
inald Pole, the courageous advocate against her mother's 



MARY THE FIRST. 371 

divorce, they owed the vengeance of the cruel and vindictive 
Henry. 

Again were Mary's pecuniary resources so much abridged 
that she was compelled to have recourse to the medium of 
Cromwell to represent her poverty to her father. This appeal, 
which must have been painful to Mary to make, was answered 
by the gift of one hundred pounds from Henry, which relieved 
her for some time from the pressure of want. In 1539 Henry 
signified his desire to his daughter, then residing at Hertford 
Castle, that she should receive the suit of the Duke Philip of 
Bavaria, lately arrived in England. This prince, who was 
nearly allied to Anne of Cleves, between whom and Henry 
a marriage had been then concerted, was the avant-courier of 
his cousin, and was received with peculiar favor by the king. 
On this occasion Mary again pleaded her desire to remain 
single, — a plea, the sincerity of which in this instance may 
well be credited, when the reader reflects that her proposed 
suitor professed the Protestant creed, while she was a bigoted 
adherent to the Roman Catholic one. But although Mary 
urged this plea, she too much dreaded incurring the anger of 
Henry to reject in more positive terms the alliance he wished 
her to form. She was compelled to receive the suit of Philip, 
to accept the gift which as an acknowledged suitor he be- 
stowed on her ; and had not the conduct of Henry to Anne of 
Cleves been such as too deeply offended her kinsman to admit 
of his continuing to urge his suit, there is every probability 
that she would have become, however unwillingly, the bride 
of the Bavarian prince, who had already acquired, by his in- 
vincible courage against the Turks, the epithet of "Philip the 
Brave." That this prince entertained an affection for her 
was proved by his willingness to wed her when the stigma of 
illegitimacy shut out all hope of her future accession to the 
throne, and when the well-known parismony of Henry pre- 
cluded any expectation of a rich dowry to his daughter. Among 
the ladies distinguished by the favor of Mary, the fair and 
afterwards celebrated Geraldine, must not be overlooked. She 
came to reside with the princess in 1538, at Hunsdon, and 
there commenced an affection between them that never knew 
a change. The Lady Geraldine was allied in no remote degree 
to Mary, being the daughter of Lady Elizabeth Grey, whose 
father, the Marquis of Dorset, was the eldest son of Queen 
Elizabeth Woodville. The father of the fair Geraldine was 
the Earl of Kilclare, who perished on the scaffold in 1537. The 



372 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND, 

fortune of this noble family being confiscated, the bereaved 
widow and her child were reduced to poverty, and compelled 
to owe the maintenance of Geraldine to the daughter of him 
who had wrought their ruin. There was a deep and romantic 
interest attached to this lady before the chivalrous Surrey had 
bequeathed her name to posterity, through the medium above 
all others the most certain to transmit — wedded to immortal 
verse. The fair Geraldine continued with Mary until her 
services were transferred to Queen Katherine Howard, in 
whose courtly circle Surrey had opportunities of beholding 
her. When the fall of this fair but unfortunate queen dis- 
persed her ladies, Geraldine accepted the hand of an aged 
suitor, probably impelled by poverty to form so ill-assorted a 
marriage, and became the Lady Browne, a homely name, that 
ill accords with the euphonious one of "Geraldine." 

In the succeeding years of 1540 and 1541, we find Mary 
placed in a situation that must command the pity of all, that 
of having some of the friends whom she most loved hurried 
by the unrelenting persecutions of her father to the most cruel 
and ignominious deaths, on the alleged plea of treason, but 
more truly for their imprudent zeal and determined adherence 
to that faith of which Henry had now become the declared 
enemy. The deaths of Dr. Fetherston, the preceptor of her 
youth, and of Abel, the chaplain of her mother, deeply as they 
must have afflicted her, were followed by the barbarous execu- 
tion of her aged and beloved friend, the Countess of Salis- 
bury, under circumstances of such brutal and revolting cruelty 
as never to be thought of without horror, and which must have 
overwhelmed her with grief and fear. The countess's son, 
Lord Montague, with the Marquis of Exeter, had already on 
the block paid the penalty of their kinship to Reginald Pole, 
the staunch opponent of Henry's divorce from Queen Katha- 
rine, and fulfilled the threat thundered forth by the monster 
Henry at the time. 

In 1542 Francis the First again solicited the hand of Mary 
for his second son, the Duke of Orleans, but the treaty, after 
it had considerably advanced, was broken off because Henry 
would not give the fortune with Mary required by France. 
The whole treaty, as handed down to us, offers an amusing 
specimen of the manner in which such affairs were then dis- 
cussed by the diplomatic agents to whom they were intrusted, 
and proves that Francis the First was no less exacting in his 
conditions for the dot, than Henry the Eighth was parsimo- 



MARY THE FIRST. 373 

nious ; the one requiring a million of crowns, while the other 
would only bestow on his daughter two hundred thousand. 
Each of the ambassadors employed on this occasion endeav- 
ored to enhance the merits of the party represented, but with 
little avail, for the affair ended as similiar ones in less elevated 
stations have often done, by Plutus having more influence than 
Cupid ! The ruin of the fair but 'frail Katharine Howard 
seemed to remove another obstacle from the succession of 
Mary to the throne. Her brother Edward, after her father, 
alone stood between her and the throne, to which, notwith- 
standing all the steps taken by Henry to deprive her of all 
right, her claims were still tacitly, if not openly, acknowledged 
by the nation. That Mary now held a more dignified station 
may be admitted by the fact that she was employed by Henry 
to negotiate a peace between him and her cousin and former 
suitor, Charles the Fifth, and was permitted to grant an 
audience to the Spanish ambassador. 

The gifts presented to Mary on the Christmas of 1542 were 
numerous and costly ; and we notice the fair Geraldine, then 
Lady Browne, and her aged husband, among those who offered 
their homage on this occasion. Henry did not long remain 
a widower, and his sixth and last choice fell on Katharine 
Parr. Mary graced the nuptials with her presence, and as a 
mark of' favor shown to her, accompanied the king and queen 
on their extended tour in the country during the summer. 
The illness to which, for some time previous and ever after, 
Mary became subject at certain seasons of the year, attacked 
her during this journey, and she was removed to Ampthill, a 
place pregnant with sorrowful memories to her, as having 
been the residence of her mother. She did not join the court 
again until Christmas, on which occasion Katharine Parr be- 
stowed on her the very acceptable gift of forty pounds, which 
came when Mary's finances were reduced to so low an ebb as to 
have compelled the sale of some articles of her plate. That 
Henry had never felt any compunctious visitings with regard to 
his injustice to Mary in despoiling her of her birthright, may 
be judged by his having decreed that any daughters he might 
have by Katharine Parr, or by any succeeding wives, should 
be entitled to the throne in case of default of male issue. Nev- 
ertheless, in 1554, he caused an act of parliament to be enacted 
by which Mary was restored to royal rank, but was only to 
succeed the daughters of Katharine Parr, or those by any 
future queen of Henry. 



374 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

The first notice we find of Mary's assuming- the splendor and 
dignity of her restored rank, is on the occasion of the reception 
of a Spanish ambassador, sent from her royal kinsman, Charles 
the Fifth. Perhaps her restoration may have been, influenced 
by the wily Henry's desire of conciliating the emperor, than 
which a more likely mode could not be thought of. Her ap- 
pearance and dress at a court-ball which followed the recep- 
tion attracted great attention, and probably it was the favorable 
report made of her by the ambassador to his sovereign that 
led him to think of the union between her and his son, which 
afterwards took place. 

Katharine Parr soon acquired a considerable influence over 
Mary, an influence the more to wondered at, when the dif- 
ference of their religious creeds is taken into consideration. 
It was at the request of the queen that Mary translated the 
Latin paraphrase' of St. John by Erasmus, — a real, though per- 
haps an unconscious, service rendered to the advocates of the 
Reformation. The labor, erudition, and patience necessary 
for the performance of this task, merit the praise bestowed 
on it, although it unhappily failed to enlighten her who ful- 
filled it. That Mary was of a generous disposition may be 
inferred from the entries in the privy-purse book of the 
princess of the presents of trinkets and jewels given by her 
to her friends and ladies of the court ; and that she loved order, 
may be seen by the list of her jewels regularly kept and 
signed by her own hand. 

A good understanding appears to have existed not only 
between Mary and the queen, but also between Prince Ed- 
ward, Elizabeth, and Mary. The letter quoted in Strype's 
"Memorials," from Prince Edward to Mary, although formal, 
and too complimentary to indicate any great warmth of affec- 
tion, nevertheless shows an interest in her health. 

Although bodily infirmities and a fearful increase of acerbity 
of temper, their consequent result, given way to without any 
attempt to control the violence of his passions, rendered Henry 
the Eighth more like a wild beast than a human being during 
the last years of his life, Mary escaped incurring his displeas- 
ure. To this may be attributed his confirming her, by his will, 
in her right of succession, and his bequest of ten thousand 
pounds, and three thousand a year while she remained un- 
married. We have the authority of Pollino for stating that 
Mary was summoned to the bed of her dying father shortly 
before he expired, and that for the first time he addressed 



MARY THE FIRST. 375 

something like regret for the sorrows he had caused her, and 
entreated her to act as a kind mother to her brother. Never 
did she forget this entreaty, for in after trials, and they were 
neither "few nor far between," during the Protectorate, never 
did she for a single moment countenance any of the attempts 
made to subvert those who ruled in Edward's name, however 
much she suffered from their acts, and was tormented by their 
unfounded suspicions. w The will of Henry the Eighth was as 
inconsistent as his life had been, and bore evidence of the in- 
sincerity of his fatih in that religion of which his defense gained 
for him the unmerited title of "Defender of the Faith." He 
willed that his son should be brought up a Catholic, and be- 
queathed six hundred pounds a year for masses to be said for 
the repose of his own soul ! — acts wholly at variance with the 
professions of his life, since he had abjured the papal faith. 
Yet this was the man to whom it was supposed we owe the 
establishment of the Protestant religion ! The only interfer- 
ence of Mary with the government after the death of her father 
was an address from her to Somerset containing her urgent 
prayer for the fulfillment of Henry's will with regard to the 
education and tenets of her brother. This address produced 
no other effect than a disingenuous and unsuccessful attempt 
on his part to disprove the fact of which the will itself left 
no doubt, namely, that Henry had returned to the creed of his 
youth. A good understanding seemed to exist between the 
youthful king and Mary during the first months of his reign. 
They passed the Christmas together, and he evinced a par- 
tiality for her society. The troubles which broke out soon 
after, as well as the difference in their faith, interrupted this 
good understanding. Somerset accused her servants of coun- 
tenancing the rebels in Devonshire, and she answered the 
accusation not only by a prompt and firm denial, but more 
than hinted that the cause of the troubles originated in the 
unlawful changes he had effected. 

The marriage of Katherine Parr with Lord Thomas Sey- 
mour was very repugnant to the feelings of Mary ; and though 
it produced no breach of courtesy between them, led to a cere- 
monious coldness. Mary was the last person likely to over- 
look or pardon the indecorous haste with which the widowed 
queen bestowed her hand on him who had sued for it before 
Henry had distinguished her — and they met no more. 

It having been arranged by the privy council, on the death 



376 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

of her father, that Elizabeth should reside with her step- 
mother, Queen Katharine Parr, Mary, on the marriage of the 
queen with Lord Thomas Seymour, wrote to her sister to offer 
her a home beneath her roof. Whether Mary was aware of 
the proposal of marriage made by the artful Seymour to Eliz- 
abeth on the death of Henry, and when she was only in her 
fourteenth year, is not known ; but certain it is that if she were 
acquainted with this fact, it was highly, prudent of her to wish 
to remove her sister from the house of a man who, four days 
after his rejection, by Elizabeth, transferred his suit to her 
step-mother, for whom he had previously entertained an affec- 
tion, thereby proving the instability of his character, and the 
ambitious views by which he was actuated. Elizabeth, how- 
ever, preferred remaining with Katharine Parr to removing to 
her sister — a preference that argues little for her delicacy, and 
which very naturally afterwards drew on her not only the jeal- 
ousy of Katharine Parr, but the censure of those who had 
opportunities of witnessing the coarse romping and improper 
familiarities which occurred between her and the unprincipled 
Seymour. The excuse alleged by Elizabeth for not accepting 
her sister's invitation was that the queen had shown her so 
much friendship that she feared to incur the reproach of in- 
gratitude if she left her. The bad health of Mary, no less 
than her desire of privacy and avoidance of a court in which 
her religion caused her to be viewed with jealousy and dis- 
trust, confined her to Kenninghall, where she passed a con- 
siderable portion of her time. She, however, paid a visit to the 
king at St. James's Palace in 1548, when she was received 
with all the splendor clue to her rank and consanguinity to 
the sovereign. Among the many courtiers who flocked to the 
palace to offer homage to the Princess Mary was Lord Thomas 
Seymour, the widowed husband of Katharine Parr, who had 
neither lost any portion of the insinuating influence for which 
he was so remarkable, nor the ambition for which he was no 
less so. Aware of Mary's fondness for music, and none being 
permitted, or at least provided in the palace of her brothe/, 
Seymour took occasion to express his regret that she was de- 
prived of this pleasure, and his fear that want of,practice would 
impair her skill in the science. He recommended a person to 
give her instruction, who it was afterwards ascertained was 
a creature of his, who was to convey with his lessons in music 
something of a nature to serve the interests of his artful em- 



MARY THE FIRST. 377 

ployer, by exciting for him an interest in the breast of the 
princess. The discovery of this scheme by the protector must 
have confirmed the suspicions he had long entertained against 
his brother, of harboring intentions of ultimately transferring 
his views to Mary, should he not succeed in securing the favor 
of Elizabeth. Although Mary's health was in so precarious 
a state as to create great alarm in the minds of her friends, 
and a belief in her own that her end was rapidly approaching, 
Somerset, the stern and unfeeling protector, spared her not 
in pertinaciously urging her to conform to the rules of a re- 
ligion which her conscience refused to acknowledge.* 

Another suitor now presented himself for the hand of Mary. 
This was the Duke of Brunswick, who, though a Protestant 
prince, was not deterred from seeking a Roman Catholic bride. 
This suit was declined on the plea that one was then pending 
between the princess and Don Louis, the infant of Portugal, 
which, however, never came to a successful termination. The 
next claimant, the Marquis of Brandenburgh, was likewise a 
Protestant, and shared no better fortune than her other wooers. 
Mary was not permitted any long respite from the persecution 
entailed by her religion. One of her chaplains was arrested 
beneath her roof, and subjected to harsh treatment in the 
Tower, and soon after the two principal officers of her house- 
hold were commanded by the king and privy council to inform 
their mistress that henceforth the celebration of the mass 
should be discontinued. Mary, deeply offended, asserted her 
dignity on this occasion, and for some hours refused to permit 
her officers to deliver the message with which they were 
charged. She again appealed to the king by letter, and it ar- 
gues ill for Edward and his council that they once more com- 
manded the same persons to return to Mary to repeat the in- 
sulting message they had previously been charged with. These 
persons, however, preferred incurring the wrath of the king 
and council to encountering the anger of their indignant mis- 
tress ; and the privy council, in consequence, found themselves 
under the necessity of sending certain members of their body, 
headed by the lord chancellor, to Mary, then residing at Copt- 
hall, to enforce her obedience to the king's commands. Mary's 
conduct on this trying occasion was no less remarkable for its 
firmness than for its tact, for, while professing every respect for 



* Carte, vol iii, book xiv, p. 233. 



378 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. . 

the king, she ventured to do more than insinuate her disbelief 
that the harshness exercised towards her originated with his 
majesty, and concluded by stating that if not permitted to have 
the rites of her own church celebrated beneath her roof, no 
power should induce her to suffer those of any other. 

It is not to be wondered at that the health of Mary, for many 
years delicate, became gravely injured by the mental disqui- 
etude to which she was subjected ; and her enemies, taking ad- 
vantage of her weak state, propagated reports of her infirmi- 
ties, in order to induce a belief of her utter unfitness to fill the 
throne should the death of the king leave it vacant. Edward 
had lately suffered much from bad health, and this led those 
around him to reflect on the probable result of his languor. 
The intercourse between the king and Mary, owing to their 
religious differences, was neither frequent nor unconstrained, 
and a better proof of Edward's alienation from her could not 
be given than his naming his cousin the Lady Jane Grey to 
succeed him on the throne. But if alienated from Mary by the 
difference in their faith, and the dread of the change in religion 
which her accession to the throne would effect, no such reasons 
could be alleged for his passing over his sister Elizabeth's claims 
which gives just cause to believe that in taking this step he 
was influenced by a fear that the marriage of either of the 
princesses with a foreigner might impair the laws and liberty of 
the nation. The death of Edward did not put an end to the 
machinations of the enemies of Mary. They concealed his 
demise, and a letter written by the council, as if by the king's 
desire, stating his extreme illness and requesting her presence, 
imposed on by this artifice, she set out to join the king; when 
at Hoddesdon she received private intelligence of the death of 
Edward, and was warned of the scheme to entrap and convey 
her a prisoner to the Tower. She, after some reflection turned 
from her intended course, bent her way towards Cambridge- 
shire, and arriving late at the portal of Sawston Hall, the 
seat of Mr. Huddlestone, she sought and found admission. 
The hospitality of this gentleman is the more to be valued, 
as it was extended at no inconsiderable risk to himself, a fact 
of which he was well aware. The next morning at early dawn 
she pursued her route, and had proceeded to the Gogmagog 
Hills, where drawing rein, she looked back and saw Sawston 
Hall in flames. A large party from Cambridge, opposed to 
her claims, attacked Sawston Hall, and having pillaged it, re- 
duced it to ashes bv fire. Fortunate was it for Marv that her 



MARY THE FIRST. 379 

foes found her not there, for there is little doubt that, in the 
hostile spirit that animated them, she might have suffered much 
at their hands. As she beheld the roof which had sheltered her 
during the night previous, consuming, she exclaimed, "Let.it 
blaze. I will build Huddlestone "a better"; and she kept her 
word. That she gained Kenninghall in safety may be owing 
to the fact that the death of Edward 'was still kept a profound 
secret from the people, hence those opposed to her claims to 
the throne were not yet disposed to take measures against her. 
The first act of Mary on reaching Kenninghall was to apprise 
the privy council of her late brother that she was aware of his 
death, and also of their evil intentions towards her, offering 
them, however, a full pardon, provided they forthwith pro- 
claimed her their queen ; but so little effect had this moderate 
measure with them that the day which followed the reception 
of the letter not only saw them proclaim the Lady Jane Grey 
their sovereign, but witnessed their accompanying this act by 
the most insulting references to the illegitimacy of Mary. This 
opposition from a powerful faction might have shaken the 
courage of even one better prepared to resist it than Mary was 
at that time, for she stood in absolute need of the sinews of 
war, money and troops. But her spirit quailed not, and when 
two Catholic partisans, Sir Henry Jerningham and Sir Henry 
Bedingfield, brought their adherents to her cause, they found 
her undauntedly determined to assert it. And now the death 
of Edward being known through the country, it was deemed 
expedient that Mary should remove to a place better calculated 
to support a siege, or to escape from in case of defeat. She 
again set out. escorted by her knights and dames, and the little 
band devoted to her, for Framlingham Castle. Here she boldly 
assumed the title of queen, her standard floated from the bat- 
tlements, and a gallant troop, headed by one of the knights of 
Suffolk, rallied around it. To these were soon added other ad- 
herents of weight and influence in Suffolk and the adjoining 
counties, until she found herself with a force of no less than 
fourteen thousand men. 

She had not been many da>s at Framlingham Castle, when 
from its towers a fleet was seen approaching the coast, and little 
doubt could be entertained that it was adverse to her. Fortu- 
nately for Mary, one of the most zealous of her partisans, Sir 
Henry Jeningham, happened to be at Yarmouth when the fleet 
neared that harbor, and he lost no time, but entering a boat, 



380 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

went out and demanded to speak with their captains. "You 
are rebels to your rightful sovereign," exclaimed jerningham, 
sternly. "If so," replied the men of war, "we will throw them 
into the sea, for we are her true subjects." 

The commanders of the fleet at once surrendered themselves, 
and Jerningham and those who accompanied him became mas- 
ters of the ships. As the fleet was well armed, and contained 
several pieces of cannon as well as abundant stores, having 
been sent for the siege of Mary's fortress, the possession of it 
was most valuable, to Mary, who stood greatly in need of these 
implements of war ; and while she was congratulating herself 
on this accession to her resources, she was apprised that Sir 
Edward Hastings, who had been employed to raise troops for 
her rival, the Lady Jane Grey, had joined her cause and placed 
the forces he had levied at her orders. This last circumstance 
was of vital importance to her interests, for it led to the deser- 
tion of some of the most powerful adherents of Lady Jane 
Grey, among whom were the Earls of Bath and Sussex, who 
hastened to join her at Framlingham Castle, leading a consid- 
erable number of their followers to her standard. Every day 
saw fresh adherents flocking to join her ; the ships in the 
neighboring ports declared for her ; provisions were plenti- 
fully sent in to her garrison. Nor was money deficient, Mary 
having commanded that the money and church-plate at Nor- 
wich, of great value, should be appropriated to her use. Thus 
supported, she issued a proclamation, offering a reward for 
the apprehension of Northumberland, who had no sooner 
heard of the turn taken in her favor in London than he pro- 
claimed her queen at Cambridge, where he was then staying, 
sorely, as may be well conjectured, against his will. But this 
piece of diplomacy availed him not ; for, on the entry of some 
of Mary's troops into Cambridge, Northumberland was ar- 
rested and sent prisoner to London. The partisans of North- 
umberland now hastened to entreat the clemency of Mary ; 
and she set out for the metropolis at the head of a large force, 
and accompanied by several of the nobility. Her progress to 
London resembled rather that of a conqueror than one whose 
empire had been disputed. The Princess Elizabeth had re- 
ceived instructions to meet her sister at Wanstead, and came, 
escorted by a numerous train of lords and ladies, to render 
homage to her sovereign. From Wanstead the royal party 
proceeded to London, forming a brilliant cortege. Mary, with 
Elizabeth by her side, and p surrounded by her ladies, was 



MARY THE FIRST. 381 

mounted on a white horse, richly caparisoned, and was attired 
in a dress of violet-colored velvet. At the city gate she dis- 
missed her troops, consisting of no less than three thousand 
men ; and the lord mayor, with a body of gentlemen in splen- 
did habiliments, and attended by the civic guard, composed her 
escort. Mary first halted at the Tower, there to remain until 
the, late king had been consigned to. the tomb; and the first 
sight that presented itself to her on entering the portal was the 
melancholy one of all the state prisoners, women as well as 
men, who had been confined there during the reigns of the last 
two monarchs. Among them were many of high note, and 
some whose lives were only saved by the death of Edward. 
Mary betrayed considerable emotion as she looked on these 
prisoners, and immediately commanded that they should be 
restored to liberty. Many of them were appointed to places of 
high trust in the royal household, and the bishops were rein- 
stated in their sees. The funeral of Edward, which was con- 
ducted with all becoming splendor, being over, Mary issued a 
proclamation, recommending her subjects to refrain from 
angry disputations on religious subjects, and holding out a 
promise of toleration to those whose creeds accorded not with 
her own. It is probable that, had Mary been left to the dic- 
tates of her own conscience, she might have fulfilled this 
pledge ; but her privy council had those among its members 
who were little disposed towards toleration, and who, urged on 
by bigotry, used their baleful influence to turn her from the 
milder and wiser course she was at first inclined to adopt. The 
cases were neither few not unfrequent in which the merciful 
interference of Mary rescued victims from the wrath of her 
privy council, and rarely was it denied by her if entreated. 
The first step taken by Mary in violation of the promise of tol- 
eration was the prohibition of public reading of the Scrip- 
tures, or preaching of the curates, except by such as were 
licensed by her ; and this gave a foretaste of what might be 
afterwards expected. A bigoted sovereign is sure to corrupt 
the religious principles of a great portion of her subjects, and 
to divide them into two classes, hypocrites and martyrs. Those 
who court favor will be ready to adopt her creed, and those 
who conscientiously adhere to their own expose themselves to 
obloquy, if not to persecution. Northumberland and his com- 
panions in rebellion were brought to trial a few days after 
Mary ascended the throne, and he and two of his -followers 



382 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

were condemned to death. But when Mary was urged to 
bring Lady Jane Grey to trial, she showed great reluctance, 
alleging that her unfortunate cousin ought not to be punished 
for the crime in which the ambition of Northumberland com- 
pelled her to act a part. Well had it been for the reputation of 
Mary if she had maintained her original good intentions of 
clemency towards her fair and interesting kinswoman, who 
should be viewed as the innocent victim to the policy of Edward 
and the ambition of Northumberland. 

Before the month of August had expired, Mary received in 
private, and with the utmost secrecy, an envoy from the pope, 
to whom she revealed two very important pieces of intelli- 
gence. The first was her desire to yield to the pope the su- 
premacy in religion wrested from him by her father ; and the 
second, that she had pledged her hand to Philip of Spain. 
Two measures more calculated to render her unpopular never 
could have been thought of, and of this was Reginald 
Pote, now a cardinal, so well aware, that he earnestly counseled 
Mary not to marry, while Bishop Gardiner as earnestly en- 
treated her not to resign her supremacy. Mary now found 
herself placed in a difficult and dangerous position. The mem- 
bers of the established church, as the Protestant was termed, 
looked on her as its enemy ; the anti-papal Catholics strongly 
suspected her of an inclination to surrender the supremacy 
to the pope ; and those of the ancient Catholic faith, who had 
denied all supremacy save that of the pope, were doubtful 
whether or not she would restore it to him. 

The rumor of the Spanish marriage gave discontent to all 
parties; but Mary, now no longer young, evinced a desire to 
wed which she had never betrayed in her youth, and leant 
entirely to the individual most objectionable to her subjects, 
namely, Philip of Spain. So determined was she to carry out 
her wishes on this point, that when an address was sent her 
from the House of Commons, praying that she would not 
marry a foreigner, her answer was, "That she held her crown 
of God, and hoped to find counsel from Him alone on so im- 
portant an occasion." 

Nor were her subjects more averse to this marriage than 
was he whom it even more personally concerned, for Charles 
the Fifth had great difficulty in persuading his son to consent 
to wed Mary. Nor could this objection on his side be won- 
dered at. Eleven years his senior, Mary was remarkably 



MARY THE FIRST. 383 

grave, even for a woman of thirty-seven, and had lost all the 
freshness which sometimes adheres to Englishwomen even at 
a more advanced age. The knowledge that she had been affi- 
anced to his father before he had been born, was not calculated 
to reconcile Philip to the disparity in the age of his future 
bride; and it was, perhaps, this objection which led the em- 
peror to assure Mary in a letter, that "If his own age and 
health had rendered him a suitable spouse, he should have had 
the greatest satisfaction in wedding her himself." 

And now the thoughts of the court and courtiers were di- 
rected to the approaching coronation. Mary being the first 
queen who had filled the throne in her own right, it became 
necessary to establish etiquette for the grave ceremonial where 
precedents could not be found. That it might be worthy of 
her, her citizens came forward with a loan of twenty thousand 
pounds, no inconsiderable sum at that time ; and preparations 
were soon commenced. Previous to the 1st of October, the 
day named for the coronation, Mary proceeded in her state 
barge from Whitehall to the Tower, attended by the Princess 
Elizabeth and all the ladies of her court, and escorted by the 
lord mayor and public functionaries of the city in their barges, 
and in all their civic display of rich clothes, gold and chains, 
and with music, only broken by the sound of the cannon fired 
to do their sovereign honor and the cheers that welcomed her. 
On the following day she created several knights of the Bath, 
and the succeeding day she went, accompanied by a grand 
procession, on horseback through the streets, attended by no 
less than seventy ladies, dressed in crimson velvet, and several 
hundred noblemen, gentlemen, and all the foreign ambassa- 
dors, of whom the 1 Spanish took one precedence. The queen 
sat in a gorgeous litter, borne by six white horses, richly com- 
parisoned in cloth of silver. Her robe was of blue velvet, 
bordered with ermine, and on her head she wore a network, 
so covered with jewels of immense value as nearly to conceal 
her hair. The Princess Elizabeth, accompanied by Anne of 
Cleves, followed the queen in an open carriage, covered with 
crimson velvet and richly ornamented. Their robes were of 
cloth of silver. The master of the horse appeared next, lead- 
ing the queen's palfrey, and then succeeded a vast train of 
ladies and lords on horseback and in carriages, dressed in great 
splendor, and followed by the queen's guards. Stately pa- 
geants were exhibited for the queen's pleasure as she passed 



384 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

along. The conduits of the city overflowed with wine ; but. 
perhaps the most acceptable of the homages offered to her 
was the' gift presented by the aldermen of a thousand marks 
in a handsome purse, a timely addition to her finances, which 
were then in a very unflourishing state. 

The coronation was as splendid as jewels, velvet, minever, 
and cloth of gold and of silver could make it. No ceremonial 
usual on such occasions was omitted, and Gardiner, bishop of 
Winchester, attended by ten other bishops, performed the re- 
ligious offices of the crowning. 

It was remarked with satisfaction that the Princess Eliza- 
beth was treated with due distinction by the queen, at whose 
side she sat at the banquet, at which also Anne of Cleves had 
a seat. 

One of the earliest acts of parliament after the accession of 
Mary was the annulling of the sentences of divorce of Kath- 
erine of Arragon, and of the illegitimacy of her daughter. 
This was an unnecessary measure, but it would have been well 
if the illegitimacy of Elizabeth had likewise been annulled at 
the same time. It would have gratified the nation, and have 
removed from the princess herself all excuse for discontent. 
Mary, however, was then so absorbed by her approaching 
marriage, and entertained such hopes of it giving an heir to 
the throne that she probably thought not of establishing her 
sister's right to the succession, or if she did, might have felt 
delicate in recalling the sentence against Anne Boleyn to the 
recollection of her daughter and the people. Where a favor- 
able interpretation can be given to any part of the conduct of 
a queen who rendered herself so unpopular, we are disposed 
to give her the benefit of it. A bill of attainder was now 
passed on Lady Jane Grey and her husband, and here was an 
opportunity afforded to Mary of displaying at once magna- 
nimity and mercy, two attributes which reflect a brighter lus- 
ter on a crown than all the jewels that encircle it. It appears 
like a destiny that Mary and her successor, Elizabeth, should 
consent to, if not cause, the deaths of two of the most interest- 
ing women to be found in the pages of English history — women 
who, though unlike in their lives, one being as spotless as the 
other was suspected, nevertheless, by their violent Jeaths, 
have created a pity that time has not deprived them of. 

The father of Lady Jane Grey compromised again the life 
of his daughter; for, pardoned by Mary for the part he had 




'■"a I- 1 



y ' /'he 



MARY THE FIRST. 385 

taken in having the Lacly Jane set up as queen, he once more 
broke out into rebellion, when he found that the queen was 
bent on wedding Philip of Spain, and so drew on the Lady 
Jane that violent death from which Mary seemed disposed to 
save her, by furnishing a pretext to her enemies that the queen 
rould hope for no security while Jane and her husband lived. 
ileVen days after the execution of Lady Jane Grey and Lord 
1 iuildford Dudley, Suffolk was beheaded ; so that Queen Mary's 
;ign, short as it had been, had already witnessed the shedding 
f some of the noblest blood in her kingdom, and nearly allied 
) her own. The rebellion of Sir Thomas Wyatt, founded, as 
•as alleged, on his dislike to the queen's marriage with Philip 
f Spain — a dislike shared by the whole nation — again involved 
fary in serious troubles. She appointed the Duke of Norfolk 
eneral of her forces, and prepared to resist her rebellious 
ubjects. The success that followed Wyatt 's outbreak en- 
couraged him, and increased his followers, while the defeat 
sustained by the queen's forces filled her friends with appre- 
hension. Two privy councillors, Sir Edward Hastings, master 
f the horse and Sir Thomas Cornwallis, sought an interview 
ith Wyatt, near Dartford, and demanded, in the queen's 
ime, "Wherefore he gathered in arms her liege people against 
r, yet that in his proclamation he called himself a true sub- 
t, both which cannot stand together?" 

T am no traitor,' quoth Wyatt ; 'and the cause why I have 
embled the people is to defend the realm from danger of 
*ng overrun by strangers, which must needs follow if the 
iarriage takes place.' 

"Why," said the councillors, "there is no stranger yet come, 

her for power or number, whom you need to suspect ; there- 

if.that thing only be the quarrel, will you, that dislike 

iarriage, come to communication touching the cause, and 

leen is content you shall be heard?" 

"o that I yield,' said Sir Thomas Wyatt ; 'but for my 

ir surety I will rather be trusted than trust,' and there- 

1 demanded, as some h^ve written, saith Holinshed, the 

ody of the Tower, and her grace within it, as also the dis- 

'ng of some councillors about her, and to place others in 

room. 

which the master of the horse replied, 'Wyatt, before 

lalt have thy traitorous demand granted, thou shalt die, 

enty thousand more with thee!' And so these agents 



386 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

departed to the court, and Wyatt forthwith came unto Deepe- 
ford by Greenwich." 

The near approach of the rebels to London occasioned great 
alarm. The queen was advised to remove to the Tower, and 
such was the general panic that the lord mayor, aldermen, ana 
the greater part of the citizens donned their armor, and the 
sergeants and lawyers at Westminster Hall pleaded their 
causes "in harnesse," as Speed quaintly expresses it. 

Luckily the drooping spirits of the Londoners were at this 
time cheered by news of the defeat in the west of the insur- 
gents under Carew and Gibs, which was proclaimed in London 
upon Candlemas-eve ; and the following day Queen Mary 
came to Guildhall, attended by many of her court, when she 
met the lord mayor, the aldermen, and the chief citizens, be- 
fore whom she delivered a' speech so well calculated to touch 
their feelings, being a fair exposition of the unfounded dis- 
loyalty of the rebels, the insolence of their demands and her 
own affection for her people, that it at once increased their 
devotion to her cause and excited their courage to defend it. 
Mary appointed the Earl of Pembroke general of the forces, 
and issued a proclamation, offering one hundred pounds a 
year to him and his posterity forever, who should bring Wyatt, 
alive or dead, to custody. Lndeterred-by this proclamation, 
Wyatt, at the head of four thousand men, entered Southwark 
with little opposition, and to conciliate the inhabitants, pro- 
claimed that none of his soldiers should take away anything 
without due payment and the consent of the owners — a meas- 
ure which, though soon violated, gained him a considerable 
accession to his troops. 

\Vinchester House was sacked and pillaged, the books of its 
fine library cut to pieces, and every lock torn from the doors. 
The rebels then proceeded to the city, where, finding the gates 
of the bridge secured against them, Wyatt placed two pieces 
of ordnance against them, pointed another at St. George's 
Church, a fourth at the entrance into Bermondsey and a fifth 
towards Winchester House. Finding that the lord mayor and 
Lord William Howard had rendered the entrance to the city 
impregnable, that the Tower and all steeples and gates in the 
vicinity were topped with ordnance, Wyatt drew off his troops 
towards Kingston-on-Thames, repaired with planks and lad- 
ders the bridge there, which had been broken, and crossing the 
river, reached Brentford before his intention of doing so was 



MARY THE FIRM. ^ / 

suspected, and at daybreak was at Knightsbridge, whence he 
marched in order of battle towards St. James's Fields. But 
here his hopes were foiled, for the Earl of Pembroke, with a 
considerable force, had taken possession of this spot, and Wy- 
att turned down a lane leading towards St. James's and, ad- 
vancing in the direction of Charing Cross, perceived not that 
Pembroke's troops had fallen on the rear of his, cutting off the 
possibility of their rejoining them. Wyatt reached Charing 
Cross, notwithstanding that his passage to it was opposed by 
cannon, which played on him, without, however, much dam- 
aging his men, three only of whom were killed but found re- 
sistance there which might have prevented his further ad- 
vance had not the Kentish soldiers by rushing violently into 
the streets, forced the lord chamberlain and Sir John Gage 
into the gates of Whitehall, which were instantly closed. Wyatt 
turned his course through Fleet street, but found Ludgate 
closed against him and defended by the citizens. The followers 
who had been separated from Wyatt came before the gates 
at Whitehall, and shot their arrows into the garden and win- 
dows of the palace, but making no impression, they attempted 
to follow Wyatt to the city, but were stopped at Charing Cross 
by Sir Henry Jerningham, captain of the guard, Sir Edward 
Bray, master of the ordnance, and Sir Philip Paris, knight, 
sent there by the Earl of Pembroke with a branch of archers 
and certain field pieces to protect the court. Here both parties 
fought manfully for some time, but at length the rebels were 
put to flight. . Wyatt, defeated and dispirited, surrendered 
himself to Sir Maurice Buckley, and, with Sir Thomas Cob- 
ham and Thomas Knevet, was committed to the Tower ; to 
which, the following day, several more of the leaders of the reb- 
els were sent, and no less than four hundred persons were 
marched through the city to Westminster, with halters round 
their necks ; but these last the queen pardoned, pronouncing 
their pardon in person from the gallery in the Tiltyard. The 
personal bravery of Mary during the conflict, a considerable 
portion of which she witnessed from a balcony of the palace 
overlooking the scene of action, should not be passed by with- 
out notice. She encouraged her defenders by words and ges» 
tures, showing more anxiety for them than for her own safety, 
and when her cause was most desperate, she descended from 
her balcony, and placing herself by the side of the soldiers, 
by her presence and her exhortations animated their corrage. 



J°° i'-Hli QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

The evil consequences of this revolt died not with its de- 
feat, and one of the most grave was the suspicion to which it 
gave birth in the breast of Mary against her sister Elizabeth 
l\o sooner had Wyatt rebelled than Mary summoned Eliza- 
beth to join her without delay; and this summons, on the plea 
of sickness not being complied with, three members of the 
privy council, with a troop of horse amounting to two hundred 
and fifty men, were sent to enforce her obedience to the queen's 
wishes 1 hough the commissioners found her ill in bed thev 
insisted on her accompanying them to town 

The harshness of this measure was hardly to be justified by 
the rumors in circulation, that Elizabeth and Lord Courtenav 
were implicated m Wyatt 's insurrection, and it is probable that 

ff^'T <w- h l Ve had reCOUrse to k had not Gardiner, 
the Lishop of Winchester, instigated and urged her to it xNo 
step could be more calculated to serve Elizabeth's popularity 
for the sight of the princess, pale and suffering, and surrounded 
by guards, excited the deep commiseration of the people in 
every place through which they passed. And although she 
was brought to the palace, she was not admitted to the pres- 
ence of the queen, but was in all respects treated as a prisoner 
and for fourteen days subjected to a solitary confinement see- 
ing only those appointed to guard her. At the expiration of that 
time Gardiner, and nine of the council, entered her prison and 
charged her with having taken part in Wyatt's conspiracy, as 
well asm Sir Peter Carew's insurrection in the west of Eng- 
land. Elizabeth denied the charge with great firmness, but 
when told that she must forthwith be sent to the Tower she 
evinced considerable alarm, and said she hoped her maUtv 
would not commit to that place a true and innocent woman 
that had never offended her in thought, word or deed and 
requested the lords to intercede fo? her with th queen 
Whether they fulfilled this request is doubtful, but in an horn 
after, Gardiner and others returned to dismiss all her attend- 
ants, saye her gentleman-usher, three ladies and two grooms 
of her chamber. A strong guard was placed in the room ad- 
joining hers two lords, with men, to watch in the hall with 
two hundred men in the garden-preparations that prove the 
importance Mary attached to the safe keeping of her prisoner 
ihe next day two lords of the council came to her and stated 
he queens pleasure that she should instantly be conveyed to 
the Tower, that the barge for her conveyance was ready and 



MARY THE FIRST. 389 

the tide offered. Elizabeth entreated most earnestly to be 
permitted to remain until the next tide, and requested to be 
allowed to write to the queen. One of the council roughly re- 
jected her petition, but the other, the Earl of Sussex, not only 
accorded it, but promised to deliver it into the queen's hand. 
The time employed in writing and entreating had seen the tide 
pass, and it no longer served to shoot the bridge with a barge 
The queen was very angry at the delay, and Elizabeth's desire 
for it probably confirmed the suspicion entertained that she 
wished to gam time to have a rescue attempted. The next 
day, Palm Sunday, she was taken from the palace, and passino- 
through the garden to ente'r the barge, she was observed to 
cast her eyes towards the windows, hoping to see some pityino- 
face ; but beholding none, she sighed deeply and said, "I mar* 
vel what the nobility mean, to suffer me, a princess, to be led 
wu captlvlt >'' the Lord knows whether, for myself do not " 
When the barge approached the bridge, the tide not being full 
in, the fall of the water at the bridge was so great that the 
bargemen feared to attempt to pass and proposed to wait until 
the stream became more level. But this proposal was rejected 
and the barge being impelled on, was placed in such danger 
that its stern struck against the ground, and having with diffi- 
culty neared the next stair*, its occupants could not be landed 
without stepping into the water, a dangerous trial for a sick 
woman. Ascending the stairs, Elizabeth solemnly said "I 
speak before Thee, O God, having none other friend but fhee 
only; here landeth as true a subject, being prisoner, as ever 
landed at these stairs." Having entered the gate, a great num- 
ber of men, wardens and others, presented .themselves to guard 
her, and as she passed many knelt down and prayed God to 
preserve her. For this demonstration of sympathy they were 
rebuked and put from their ordinary next day. Lodged in 
prison, the first act of Elizabeth was one of piety ; she took 
out her prayer-book, and assembling her attendants around her 
addressed the Almighty with deep fervor. But even the con- 
solation of having the rites of her own religion celebrated was 
denied her ; for she was now commanded to hear mass in her 
prison, and two yeomen were appointed to make the responses 
to the priest. Not satisfied with the former examination of 
Elizabeth m the palace, Gardiner came to the Tower with 
others of the council to re-examine her. She was questioned 
as to a conversation alleged to have passed between her and 



390 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

a prisoner in the Tower, Sir James Croft, who was confronted 
with her, when the princess, with grave dignity, said, "My 
lords, methinks yon do me wrong to examine every mean pris- 
oner against me ; if they have done evil let them answer for it ; 
I pray yon join me not with such offenders." 

Although no proof could be found against her, Elizabeth was 
still retained in prison until her health became much impaired, 
when permission was granted her to walk in the garden, and a 
strict prohibition given that while she remained in it no other 
prisoner was to be allowed to enter, or even to look into it. 
While in prison a boy of four years old, drawn towards her 
by that instinct which teaches children to distinguish those 
who are partial to them, was wont to bring Elizabeth flowers, 
and this innocent action furnished a suspicion that the artless 
child was the medium of a correspondence between her and 
the Lord Courtenay. The boy was menaced, and his father 
commanded not to suffer him to approach the princess again, 
but the child nevertheless stole once more to the door of her 
prison, which finding closed, he peeped through a chink, and 
cried unto her, "Mistress, I can bring you no more flowers." 

About this time it is stated that a warrant was issued for 
the execution of Elizabeth. Bridges, then lieutenant of the 
Tower, suspecting that the warrant was not sanctioned by the 
queen, courageously hastened to her to inquire the truth. Mary 
evinced no less surprise than displeasure on this occasion, and 
instantly countermanded the warrant. Had -Bridges possessed 
less courage, the life of Elizabeth would have been sacrificed. 
Gardiner was the person accused of this intended crime ; but 
if he were guilty of it, how came it that his royal mistress did 
not punish him? Elizabeth's fears for her life did not soon 
subside, for when Sir Henry Bedingfield, with a hundred 
soldiers, entered her prison a few days after, she demanded, 
"Whether the scaffold whereon Lady Jane Grey had suffered 
was still standing ; or whether Sir Henry made any conscience 
of murder, if hers was committed unto his charge?" 

Her terror had not ceased when, on the 19th day of the fol- 
lowing May, she was removed from the Tower on her route 
to Woodstock, under the charge of Sir Henry Bedingfield 
and the Lord of Tame. When she reached Richmond all her 
own servants were commanded to remove from her presence, 
and her guards were ordered to supply their places, which 
so alarmed her, that, believing it was only a preparatory step 






MARY THE FIRST. 39* 

to her death, she desired the prayers of her servants, adding, 
"For this night I think I must die." • 

Her o-entleman-usher hastened to the Lord of lame and 
implored him to say whether his mistress that night stood m 
danger of death? "May God forbid," quoth the Lord Tame, 
'•that any such wickedness should be wrought, which rather 
than it should, I and my men will die at her feet." _ 

As she proceeded towards Woodstock, the people with tears 
and prayers pressed to meet her, and the village bells were 
rung which so excited the ill-will of "her jailer, as she 
termed Sir Henry, that he commanded the bells to cease set 
the ringers in the stocks, and drove back the people, calling them 
traitors and rebels against the queen and her laws. 

Arrived at Woodstock, her personal liberty was little in- 
creased, nor were her fears diminished. The lodgings assigned 
her were not befitting her rank, and were strongly guarded 
by soldiers night and day. This last precaution may have orig- 
inated in a desire for her safety, but she viewed it in a differ- 
ent light. Though permitted to walk in the gardens, they were 
secured by so many locks, as was also her prison, that she was 
never allowed to forget her melancholy position, even while 
breathing the air of heaven. To add to her terror, it was 
suspected that the keeper of Woodstock, a man of turbulent 
and violent habits and great brutality, was instigated to kill 
her It was likewise said that a creature of Gardiner's named 
Basset came to Bladenbridge, a mile from Woodstock, accom- 
panied by twenty men, and pretending to have some important 
communication to make to Elizabeth, earnestly desired to be 
admitted to her presence, with no other intention than to mur- 
der her. Whatever the intention might be, it was defeated; 
for Sir Henry Bedingfield, being absent, had left a strict charge 
with his brother that no one should be permitted to see his 
prisoner, even though coming from the council or queen her- 
self. Even this charge implies a suspicion on his part that an 
attempt might be made against Elizabeth, a suspicion justified 
by the warrant for her death unsanctioned by the queen ; but 
how low must the character of the Bishop of Winchester stand 
when such suspicions, whether true or false, were entertained 
against him! An occurrence which, whether designed or 
merely accidental, happened soon after the appearance of Bas- 
set at Woodstock, filled Elizabeth with terror; a fire broke 
out between the boards and ceiling beneath the chamber in 



392 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND, 

the^wi^low^f , " "^ WhiIe " ,US 1,arassed that > Poking from 

singin/g y^s g S^^^SS » ThTdilef 
ence ,„ the r fates struek her forcibl the peasant mafden 
freely enjoymg liberty, and tormented by no fear "£u 

ma" a^ VlT^V^? W« £ 

;~ * rV 7 ot tlle " rst assembly to discuss the «nh 

to argue on lt agai „ s f Doctors Tresham, Cole, Oglethorpe and 
-Pie, Oxford men ; to whom were addeH TW R ' 

Glinne, Seton, Watson, Sedgwick and I AtWn £ t\ ^^ 

The dissatisfaction entertained by A&ry's s it dec ts aS S 
her marnasre with Philin nf 9n a in i a f s,UD J ects a gainst 

approached for ts fu fil Cnt An decr . eased 1 n ? as «* period 
that this union would eT to tte Zr^ ? e ? d preVailed 
enacted in the previous reign for th re fo™ o°f ^ ^T" 8 
in the Church "and State/ Superb ™e °ofSrin° o^ 8 
norance, never failing to lend L Q w ♦ on-spnng ot lg- 

justify the fears of a %%£ 2 ts'o^™^^* 

" a L a n r do V n r r tS'tth of /ebrZT^to /// ^ ^ 
disasters to the kingdom Pari amenthf ' m ° St grave 

marriage, Mary, to mitigate fe'SLft KK£S 

its nrinrp ti, q 1 j VUdDi y spring trom her marriage with 
rnii? a i l° rd mayor and commons were sent Jn 



MARY THE FIRST. yjs 

Earl of Bedford and Lord Fitzwaters were dispatched to Spain 
to conduct Philip to England; the lord admiral, with twenty- 
eight ships, having for three months previously been employed 
in guarding against his meeting any interruption on his passage 
across the sea from any other state. Philip embarked at Co- 
runna, with a fleet of one hundred and fifty sail, and arrived 
at Southampton on the 20th of July. He was the first man 
of the fleet who set foot on the British shore, on touching which 
he drew his sword and bore it in his hand. The Earl of Arun- 
del, lord steward to the queen, immediately invested him 
with the George and Garter; the mayor of Southampton pre- 
sented him the keys of the town, and the lord chancellor was 
sent by Mary to receive him and to announce that she herself 
was on her route to Winchester to welcome him in person. 
He tarried at Southampton from Friday until Monday, when 
he set forth for Winchester to meet his future bride, attended 
by a vast train of English nobles, and by the Dukes of Alva, 
Medina Cceli, the Admiral of Castile, the Marquises of Bur- 
gos, Pescara, and several other Spaniards of high distinction, 
among whom was the Bishop of Cuenca. Philip brought with 
him a vast treasure, two cart-loads of coin and several chests 
of bullion. It was observed of him that, although affecting 
to be civil to the English, he never took off his hat to any of 
the nobility. In proportion to the chagrin evinced by Mary 
at the repeated and vexatious delays of Philip's coming — a 
chagrin revealed with somewhat less of maidenly reserve and 
queenly dignity than might be wished — was now her satisfac- 
tion at his arrival. She forgot that he had never written to 
her, nor displayed any desire to expedite his nuptials with her. 
The marriage was solemnized at Winchester, on the 25th -of 
July, being the feast of St. James, the tutelar saint of Spain, 
Gardiner bestowing the nuptial benediction. Previous to the 
ceremony the imperial ambassador from Spain presented Philip 
with the gift of the Two Sicilies, bestowed on him by the em- 
peror, his father, that Mary might wed a king and not a prince ; 
and after it, Garter king-of-arms, attended by the heralds, 
proclaimed their styles in Latin French and English as King 
and Queen of England, France, Ireland, Naples and Jerusalem. 
The royal pair proceeded to Windsor, where Philip and the 
Earl of Sussex were installed knights of the Garter, and en- 
tered London on the 18th of August, where triumphal arches 
and other expensive demonstrations of rejoicing were exhibited 



394 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

for their reception, at a cost of no less than a tax of fifteen 
and a half per cent, levied by the common council on the citi- 
zens — a fact which inclines one to suspect the sincerity of re- 
joicings that cost them so dear. The king and queen remained 
but a few days in London, whence they proceeded to Rich- 
mond, where, dismissing their train of nobility, they returned 
to Hampton Court. Here it was observed that Mary could 
hardly suffer Philip from her sight, an injudicious line of con- 
duct to adopt towards so cold and indifferent a bridegroom. 
He abated nothing of the haughtiness of his manner, was diffi- 
cult of access, no one being permitted to approach him but 
with great ceremony, and after asking an audience, which 
created considerable disgust in the English nobility. 

The first measure proposed by Mary after her marriage was 
little calculated to conciliate the regard of her subjects. She 
issued a proclamation, directing what persons she wished to be 
chosen for parliament, and succeeded in having the pope's 
legate received in England, and the establishing the possession 
of the church lands by the laity. On the opening of parliament 
the chancellor recommended the coronation of Philip, and a bill 
was brought in for the repeal of the attainder of Cardinal 
Pole. Both measures were passed, and had the royal assent 
given ten days after the opening of the session, which proves 
how little opposition Mary and her imperious husband had 
to dread from their subjects. 

And now in the fourth month of her marriage, the queen 
announced her pregnancy. Te Deum was sung, and orders 
were given for prayers to be offered up for the child's preserva- 
tion. A household was named for the expected heir, a cradle 
provided, and ambassadors named to notify its birth to foreign 
potentates. Nevertheless, had Mary been forty-nine instead 
of thirty-nine on her marriage, the likelihood of her giving 
an heir to the crown could not have been more questioned. 
It was strongly suspected that the report of her being pregnant 
was spread to induce her people to bestow the crown on Philip, 
and as they subsequently saw that the report proved incorrect, 
they became still more convinced of the justness of their sus- 
picions. Cardinal Pole met the members -of both houses of 
parliament at Whitehall, on the 28th of November, and having 
thanked them for repealing his attainder, exhorted them to 
return to the Church of Rome, their reconciliation with which 
he was readv to effect, as well as to grant them absolution 



MARY THE FIRST. 395 

for all previous errors. This exhortation led to a conference 
between the committees of the lords and commons ; an address, 
moved by both expressing their desire for a reunion with the 
papal see, was presented to the king and queen, and the legate 
at their intercession absolved the whole kingdom. And now 
it was proposed to repeal all statutes against the pope, the 
papal supremacy was to be re-established, and the order of 
spiritual affairs, as they stood previously to the separation from 
Rome, was to be restored. With this act was joined another 
fraught with even greater mischief, that for reviving the san- 
guinary statutes against the Lollards, and for punishing se- 
ditious words and rumors ; the first offense with the pillory 
and the loss of an ear, and the second with imprisonment for 
life. It was pronounced treason to imagine or compass the 
depriving Philip of the style of King of England, and the pub- 
lishing that he ought not to enjoy that title exposed the person 
guilty of so doing to perpetual imprisonment. Nevertheless 
he was generally spoken of only as "the queen's husband." 
It was now seen that Mary studied only the wishes of Philip. 
She was not only ready to adopt all his views, but was well 
disposed to enforce their adoption by her parliament. Charles 
the Fifth pressed her to make war against France ; but though 
Secretary Bourne, by Mary's desire, moved the measure in the 
house of commons, it was rejected, as was likewise the pro- 
posal to parliament to grant to Philip money and men to join 
the emperor in Flanders, both of which there was little doubt 
he intended ultimately to use against France. Nor was Gar- 
diner's proposition to the commons to demand a benevolence 
from all the towns in the realm more successful. This parlia- 
mentary resistance to her wishes was highly distasteful to 
Mary, who had in the early part of the session confidently 
calculated on having her husband recognized as presumptive 
heir to the crown, and of having authority vested in him of 
disposing of the treasure and forces of the kingdom. So far 
were her hopes defeated that she could not invest him even 
with the crown of queen's consort, though on the pretense 
of her being pregnant, she obtained an act for declaring him, 
in case of her death, protector of the kingdom and guardian 
of her child during its minority, if a male until eighteen, or if 
a female until fifteen. It was generally believed that even this 
concession to her wishes would not have been accorded, had 
not it been strongly suspected that she was not really with 



396 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

child, or that she was not likely to bring forth living offspring. 
But though this much was accorded, none of the restrictions 
imposed in the articles of marriage were removed, and the 
queen and Philip marked their discontent by very unceremoni- 
ously dissolving parliament soon after. 

Philip now made an effort to acquire some degree of popu- 
larity by interceding in favor of Elizabeth, whose release from 
constraint and presence at court he solicited, as also for the 
liberty of some gentlemen confined in consequence of the out- 
. break of Wyatt, and other charges. Gardiner, Elizabeth's old 
enemy, opposed her liberation for some time ; but Philip, with 
deep policy, renewed his entreaties in her favor, actuated, no 
doubt, by the notion that in case of the death of Mary, Eliza- 
beth might be rendered serviceable to his views. Such was, 
even then, the precarious state of Mary's health, that it re- 
quired but little prescience to foresee that a long extension 
of her existence could not be counted on, and he infinitely pre- 
ferred having Elizabeth as heiress to the English throne to 
Mary Stuart, who, after her, was next in succession. The 
Earl of Devonshire was also released from prison, owing to 
the intercession of Philip, and proceeded to Brussels, where, 
finding himself narrowly watched, he set out to Italy, and 
died the following year at Padua — not without suspicion of 
having been poisoned by the Imperialists. The persecution 
against Protestants was now renewed with rigor. Dr. Rog- 
ers, prebendary of St. Paul's, was burned at the stake at Smith- 
field, on the 4th of February, 1555, and five days after Dr. 
Rowland Taylor met the same terrible death at Hadley ; Cad- 
maker, chancellor of the church at Wells, and Bradford, in 
London ; Bishop Hooper met his death on the 9th of February 
at Gloucester, and Bishop Farrer in the following month, in 
the market place at Carmarthen. This persecution and cru- 
elty excited such indignation and ill-will in the minds of her 
subjects against Mary that she feared to persevere in the 
raising of troops and arming of ships to enable her to carry out 
her desire of coercing her subjects into the admission of Philip 
as present ruler and future possessor of the kingdom, and of 
punishing her people for their repeated insults to the Span- 
iards. Yet there is little doubt but that her council and par- 
liament were far more to blame for these horrors, which have 
cast an eternal opprobrium on her reign, than the now feeble 
and invalid queen herself. It is to be remembered that most 



MARY THE FIRST. 397 

of these persons were the same who had, in the preceding 
reign, been so hot for Protestantism. The queen had resisted 
all attempts to make her absolute. She restored, on her ac- 
cession, all the ancient powers of parliament, and she abhorred 
standing armies. But it was the curse of her reign that she 
had such sanguinary bigots as Gardiner and Bonner about 
her — such a husband as Philip — and such ministers as urged 
her to blood, as in the case of Lady Jane Grey, contrary to 
her better feelings. These were a race of parvenus, whom the 
queen herself declared, and to their faces, her father had made 
out of nothing, and who now were eager in their demonstra- 
tions of loyal zeal for their own advancement. They were 
the very same people, too, who after her death were as zealous 
to ingratiate themselves with Elizabeth, and who, reconciled 
to Protestantism, cast on popery and "Bloody Mary" the foul 
terms in which they have come down to our times. Elizabeth 
was as great a persecutor as her sister, but she has' escaped 
with comparative impunity, because Protestant pens have 
chiefly narrated the events of her reign. "Mary had been a 
worthy princess," says Fuller, "if as little cruelty had been 
done under her as by her." A report was now circulated that 
Mary's accouchement might be daily looked for, and on the 
30th of April all the bells of London were rung for joy of her 
delivery of a son. Te Deum was sung at St. Paul's, bonfires 
were lighted, public f eastings and other demonstrations of 
satisfaction were made in all parts of the city. One preacher 
went so far as to give a particular account of the infant prince, 
whom he described as a prodigy of beauty, strength and good- 
ness. The intelligence was even conveyed to Antwerp, and 
produced rejoicings there, the regent having presented one 
hundred pistoles for the purpose. It turned out, however, that 
the rumor was utterly void of truth ; and although her physi- 
cians, desirous to please her, held out hopes that Mary had 
miscalculated her time, and might look for the event two 
months later, few, if any, were imposed on, and all that Mary 
gained was a promise from Philip that he would not leave 
until she was confined. Her passion for her husband increased 
until it became a source of positive annoyance to him and a 
misery to her. It was evident to every one that he desired 
nothing so much as to leave her, and that he only kept terms 
with her for the furtherance of his ambitious views on her 
kingdom. Mary is described as being at this period "very 



398 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

lean, pale, worn and splenetic, sitting on the ground for hours ; 
inconsolable at the thought of her husband's departure, and 
weeping continually:" August having arrived, and there be- 
ing now no prospect of the accouchement anticipated in the 
previous June, Philip determined on joining his father in Flan- 
ders. He left Whitehall Palace on the 26th of August, at four 
in the afternoon, passed through London on his way to Green- 
wich, the pope's legate on his left hand, and the queen follow- 
ing in an open litter, escorted by a hundred archers of the 
guard. The Princess Elizabeth, who had been some time at 
court, and who had been compelled to attend the queen at 
mass, was sent to Greenwich by water, to avoid, as it was said, 
exciting those demonstrations of popularity which her pres- 
ence had latterly been wont to call forth, and which were so 
mortifying to her sister. On the 29th Philip took leave of the 
queen, promising a speedy return, a promise which he neither 
desired nor intended to fulfill, and proceeded to Canterbury, 
where he waited a week for the completion of his equipage — ■ 
a mortifying proof that he wished not to spend that time with 
Mary, who so passionately longed for his company. He did 
not sail from Dover until the 4th of September, and landed at 
Calais that night. From Calais he wrote to the queen, recom- 
mending Elizabeth to her especial care, and addressed a simi- 
lar recommendation to the Spaniards, a proof that he already 
entertained projects relative to her, which, after the death of 
Mary, were further developed. The prolonged absence of 
Philip, so painfully borne by Mary as to increase her ill health 
and exasperate her temper, was marked by a renewal of the 
persecutions which have rendered her name odious to pos- 
trity. The terrible death of Cranmer, and the spirit with which 
he met it, had made a deep impression on the minds of the 
people, but Mary, thinking only of the protracted stay of her 
husband in Flanders, which wrung her soul with the pangs 
of jealousy and grief, and for which she wholly blamed her 
subjects, attributing it to their withholding from him the privi- 
leges he sought, wished to wreak on them the vengeance kin- 
dled in her heart. To induce Philip to return she would have 
sacrificed the best interests of her kingdom, and strenuously 
set to work to acquire for him the power he so long sought. 
Rumors of conspiracies, in which the name of the Princess 
Elizabeth was mixed, were continually circulated by those who 
wished ill to the princess. Elizabeth's own conduct in listen- 



MARY THE FIRST. 399 

in- to fortune-tellers, and the actual plots of her servants, 
we're hard things to get over, when taken in conjunction with 
the intercepted correspondence between her and the French 
ambassador ; and Mary, tortured by what was occurring abroad 
and at home, knew not on whom to rely for advice or succor. 
And now the abdication of the emperor in favor of his son 
furnished the latter with a good excuse for remaining abroad, 
of which he failed not to avail himself, until, wearied by Mary s 
unceasing entreaties for his return, and desirous of urging 
England into a war with France, he came back to his unloved 
and unlovely wife on the 20th of March, 1557, and was met 
bv her at Greenwich. But the happiness of Mary on behold- 
ino- her husband was but of brief duration ; for the Duchess of 
Lorraine, his fair cousin, for whom it was said he entertained 
a more than cousinly affection, arrived in England and awak- 
ened the jealousy of the unhappy queen, no less by her charms 
than by Philip's evident appreciation of them. Many were 
the instances of jealousy betrayed by Mary to this fair dame, 
who remained in England until the following May Nor was 
it the Duchess of Lorraine alone who excited the jealousy 
of the queen. Philip used all his endeavors to seduce some 
of the ladies of her court, and failing in his efforts, descended 
to low intrigues, which were generally animadverted on. lne 
dissatisfaction which he experienced and took no pains to con- 
ceal on finding that his doting wife, however well disposed 
to forget her duty to her subjects in her blind devotion to his 
will could not induce them to adopt the measures she urged 
led Philip to leave England again in the summer that followed 
his last visit. This step produced a renewal of Mary s cha- 
grin which powerfully affected her health ; and although she 
" endeavored to conceal her sufferings, suppressing every demon- 
stration of torture with a firmness seldom equaled, those 
around her observed the inroad that disease was making on 
her life It is a weakness peculiar to sovereigns, when ill, to 
wish to conceal their danger from their subjects, and courtiers 
seldom fail to flatter this weakness. Mary, who must have telt 
that her own terrible state of health forbade the hope of a pro- 
tracted existence, nevertheless took no step to secure the suc- 
cession to her sister, unless her satisfaction at Elizabeth s re- 
jection of the Swedish offer of marriage may be deemed a tacit 
admission of her right to the crown ; and when Philip, after the 
victory at St. Ouentin, achieved chiefly, if not wholly, by the 



400 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

military skill and courage of the Prince of Savov wished to 
reward that prince by bestowing on him the hand of Elizabeth 
Mary refused to permit any coercion to be used in the affair 
and insisted that Elizabeth should be left to decide for herself 
on so momentous a question. Perhaps she had JZed wi 

queen having for a husband one whose habits and interests 
are so wholly at variance with her own interests 

and EHzabe?h nde T! anding . WaS ?° W eStablished between Mary 
and Jiiizabeth. They met much more frequently exchanged 

valuable Mt 3 ' ^ ^ ^^ ^weT^e 
valuable gifts of jewels upon her sister. Nor did the various 

d u n c S e P anv C1 u S nf in ^ ^ "^ ° f EHzabeth was mixed! pro- 
duce any unfavorable impression on the mind of Mary She 

ether disbelieved the rumors, or had learned by experience 
v ritv t P o Th eSS10n ^ a T Wn is n0t S ° liable as to stify 

Z7:itt m next heir tor aspiring to * bef ° re * «y 

mJJ 16 l0 A S l° f ? lais inflicted a dee P wou * d on the peac- of 
Mary. After the news reached her she drooped apace and 
was heard to say that the loss of Calais so affected her that 
when dead, if her body should be opened, it would be found 

life PhT h6r heart Althou * h info ™ d oi her dec hninf 
state Philip came not to visit his dying wife a neglect whrh 
must have deeply mortified her. Nevertheless " fcrMv iS 

she have made him her successor to t^&^haTJhe 

m "sm 'Ihe at 7^T ™* d - ^ ^uiesced iS s^S 
measure She at length recognized her sister Elizabeth as 

at eS affo°rded T™* ?* ^^ *«* Was "° -t of h ei ign 
that afforded so much satisfaction as this last All anxious 
to bask m the sunshine of court y favor flocked around ?S 

or;i?e SS pr^sse h d US de ^t a ^T ^ '° *^^Sffi* 
o^the professed devotion of courtiers not likely to be for- 

she expired, after having received the rites nf tL+uu 7 - 

conscious of what was doing around her From", , > 

survey of historical facts, wi can draw'no Jfa ^ 



MARY THE FIRST. 401 

bloodthirsty disposition which has been vulgarly attributed to 
Mary; but, on the contrary, a beneficent shrinking from acts 
of injustice and inhumanity. But she was involved in circum- 
stances of state, of religion, and of domestic life, of which she 
became the victim, and of which she bears the consolidated in- 
famy. 



ELIZABETH, 

QUEEN REGNANT. 

As a sovereign Elizabeth was resolute and sagacious, but 
personally she was odious. Heartless, treacherous, envious, 
insatiate of the grossest flattery, coquettish, and vain almost 
beyond credibility, audacious and unfeeling, history transmits 
to us the delineation of no female more unamiable and dis- 
pleasing. These are no measured terms of condemnation, 
and they are meant to be read strictly au pied de la lettre. 
With many of the angry and domineering qualities of her ty- 
rant father, she united, in her personal intercourse with her 
courtiers, all the levity, and more than the unscrupulous bias 
of mind, of her unhappy mother. As a monarch, she was never 
deficient in head, though she rarely showed any heart; but 
in all the circumstances of private life she seemed to have been 
almost equally devoid of both. Wanton, fantastic, capricious, 
conceited, frivolous, ridiculous, dancing with joints stiffened 
by time and ogling striplings from behind a ridge of wrinkles 
and a panoply of paint, she was all that even the least rigid man 
would most abhor to detect in wife, sister or mother. 

Elizabeth was the daughter of Henry the Eighth and Anne 
Boleyn, and was born on September 7th, 1533. Shortly af- 
terwards she was created Princess of Wales, and in the fol- 
lowing year declared heir to the throne. In 1536, upon the 
execution of her mother, her fickle sire, in a fit of antipathy, 
proclaimed her to be illegitimate ; but soon partially restored 
her to his favor, probably through the kind intervention of 
Lady Jane Seymour. The direct succession to the crown, 
however, he never again bestowed on her; but willed that It 
should be contingent upon the deaths, without issue, of, first, 
her brother Edward, and secondly, her sister Mary. Yet though 
he had withdrawn from her a partial and unjust preference, 
he seems to have treated her with kindness; and when she 

402 



ELIZABETH. 403 

was eleven or twelve years old, gave her the celebrated Roger 
Ascham for a tutor. In the severely classical and masculine 
studies in which he engaged her, and in a certain natural con- 
geniality to them in her, may probably be discovered the foun- 
dation of much of the singularity of her' subsequent career. 

During the reign of Edward the Sixth her life was tran- 
quil enough, the most exciting incident during it being the at- 
tempt of Lord Seymour, the brother. of the Duke of Somerset, 
the protector, to induce her to marry him, when she was only 
sixteen years of age. Certainly the celibacy of this sovereign 
was not in consequence of a want of suitors ; excepting Pene- 
lope, never lady was so pursued with matrimonial proposals. 
Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire, was a second pretender to 
the possession of her hand ; and then followed a proposition 
that she should unite herself to the King of Sweden. Subse- 
quently she was successively importuned to wed, inter alios, 
Philip of Spain, the Earl of Arran, the Dukes of Alencon and 
Anjou, the Archduke Charles, a son of the elector palatine, 
the Duke of Holstein, the Earl of Arundel, Sir William Pick- 
ering, and at last any body; her parliament promising in their 
own name and that of the people, to serve, honor and obey 
him faithfully, "whoever he might be." But Elizabeth re- 
jected all their propositions, and asserted and verified in the 
sequel her intention to die a spinster. For this strange deter- 
mination various and contradictory explanations are given. 

During the reign of Mary, Elizabeth certainly had no oppor- 
tunity of manifesting the fantastic notions of pleasure and 
happiness which Fontenelle has so lightly and playfully sup- 
posed her to possess ; her whole life was but one ceaseless 
peril and adversity. These harsh trials, however, which are 
generally so beneficial and mollifying to the heart, made no 
permanent impression on the unfeminine mind of this ener- 
getic princess ; and when, in her turn, she obtained the power 
of persecuting and oppressing, she manifested to another Mary 
a far greater extent of hate and cruelty than she herself 
had ever experienced. Yet she must have undergone suffer- 
ings which might have tempted her, one would have thought, 
to have practiced a precept of the scholastic knowledge to 
which she was so partial, which Virgil puts into the mouth 
of a lady almost as erring as herself, — 

"Non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco," 



404 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

When Mary was necessitated to contend with the rebellion 
of Northumberland, Elizabeth levied a thousand horse to sup- 
port her ; but little did this attempt to ingratiate herself avail. 
Her religion, and her position in relation to the succession 
to the crown, were her first offenses ; by obtaining the predi- 
lections of Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire, whom Mary is 
supposed to have been willing to marry, she completed the 
sum of her unintentional provocations. From this moment 
the animosity of her sister to her was unbounded and undis- 
guised ; and probably her life would have been the victim 
of it, after Wyatt's insurrection, but for the intercession of 
her brother-in-law, Philip of Spain. This prince may cer- 
tainly be said to have preserved her existence ; not from affec- 
tion or humanity, for a more unrelenting bigot and despot 
never existed, but to prevent the annexation of England to 
the crown of France, — an event which must have occurred 
if Mary of Scotland, and wife of the dauphin, had inherited 
tbe former kingdom. The dread of this immense accession 
to the power of the hereditary enemy of Spain, instigated 
Philip to interpose a constant barrier between Elizabeth and 
the atrocious malice of his sanguinary wife — a happy acci- 
dent, to which the English are indebted for the most pros- 
perous reign in their history. 

The circumspection of this young princess during her long 
term of trial was great and admirable. To all the machina- 
tions of her enemies to entrap her into some act which might 
serve as a pretext for her condemnation, she opposed an in- 
vincible prudence and discretion. When, thinking that she 
would have been eager to purchase escape from personal dan- 
ger at any cost or sacrifice, a marriage with the King of 
Sweden was suggested to her, instead of precipitately accept- 
ing the proposal, she cautiously demanded whether her sis- 
ter had been made acquainted with it. This inquiry receiv- 
ing an unsatisfactory reply, she desired that the matter might 
be formally communicated to Mary, who, though doubtlessly 
previously possessed of the knowledge, feigned to thank her 
for her loyal and dutiful information, and to permit her to 
decide according to her own inclination. Afterwards, when 
subjected to the more perilous ordeal of an examination into 
her religious principles, she was undaunted and self-possessed ; 
and being desired to state her sentiments respecting the doc- 



ELIZABETH. 405 

trine of the real presence, she replied, after a momentary con- 
sideration, — 

''Christ was the word that spake it, 
He took the bread and brake it, 
And what the Word did make it, 
That I believe, and take it." 

This ingenious subterfuge and jargon seems to have com- 
pletely perplexed and confounded her malicious interrogators ; 
for we do not hear that they renewed their attempts to entrap 
her into some avowal which might have conducted her to the 
stake. 

Upon the death of Mary, November 17th, 1558, Elizabeth 
being then only twenty-five years old, succeeded to the throne 
of England. Her first public acts were temperate and gen- 
erous ; for though determined to restore the Protestant reli- 
gion, she showed no animosity to the Catholics or vindictive- 
ness to her own previous persecutors. Her toleration was 
general ; all the bishops she received with kindness and affa- 
bility, with the sole exception of the fell Bonner, that dark 
and sanguinary miscreant, from whom she indignantly turned 
with too well-merited manifestations of abhorrence and dis- 
gust. She then recalled her ambassador from Rome, pro- 
hibited preaching without license and the elevation of the host, 
and in other ways displayed such an unequivocal determina- 
tion to suppress the Catholic religion, that her ministers found 
great difficulty in obtaining the assistance of a prelate to 
crown her. When, however, that ceremony had been per- 
formed, and her title to the throne acknowledged by a parlia- 
ment, she confirmed all Edward's statutes relating to religion, 
appointed herself governess of the Church, and then abolished 
mass and restored the liturgy. Those great and hazardous 
changes, the least of which in unskillful hands might have 
created a civil war and overthrown a dynasty, were effected 
by Elizabeth without any resort to violence on her part, or any 
agitation amounting to disturbance on the part of her Catho- 
lic subjects. To complete fully his estimate of the difficulty 
of this vigorous and dexterous deed, the reader must recall 
to mind the years and sex of the perpetrator of it; and then, 
however distasteful to him may be the character of Elizabeth 
as a woman, he will readily admit that as a ruler she must 
have been endowed with many eminently appropriate quali- 
ties and talents. 



406 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Lord Bacon relates that, on the morrow after her corona- 
tion, "It being the custom to release prisoners at the inau- 
guration of a prince, Elizabeth went to the chapel, and in 
the great chamber one of her courtiers, who was well known 
to her, either out of his own motion, or by the instigation 
of a wiser man, presented her with a petition ; and, before 
a great number of courtiers, besought her with a loud voice, 
'That now this good time there might be four or five more 
principal prisoners released ; these were the four Evangelists, 
and the apostle St. Paul, who had been long shut up in an 
unknown tongue, as it were in a prison so as they could not 
converse with the common people.' The queen answered very 
gravely, 'That it was best first to inquire of them whether 
they would be released or no.' " 

This was the character of all her alterations and amend- 
ments, at the present, and during a long subsequent period : 
she did nothing precipitately or capriciously, but, before the 
enactment of any important measure, was alwavs careful to 
learn whether the people "would or no." This commendation, 
however, is far from being intended to apply to the whole 
of her career : for many were the despotic acts she afterwards 
committed ; and she burdened the nation with the most dis- 
tressing monopolies and patents, which were far more injur- 
ious to them than the heaviest taxes, and certainly without 
previously demanding their "yea or nay." Camden mentions 
that "after the death of John Basilides, his son Theodore re- 
voked the privilege which the English enjoyed as sole pos- 
sessors of the Russian trade. When the queen remonstrated 
against this innovation, he told her ministers, that 'princes 
must carry an indifferent hand as well between their subjects 
as between foreigners ; and not convert trade, which by the 
laws of nations ought to be common to all, into a monopoly 
for the private gain of a few.' " To which statement Hume 
subjoins the following judicious remark: "So much juster 
notions of commerce were entertained by this barbarian than ' 
appear in the conduct of the- renowned Queen Elizabeth!" 
But this impolicy originated in no want of circumspection or 
deliberation, but in the detestable egotism of her character : 
she felt that a frequent application to parliament for subsi- 
dies would give to that body an influence in her councils ; and 
selfishly, therefore, she resolved to sacrifice the nation's inter- 
est to her own haughty and arrogant love of independence, 
even when disastrous and illegitimate. 



ELIZABETH. 407 

In the year 1559 occurred the commencement of Elizabeth's 
tyrannical intercourse with the unfortunate Mary, Queen of 
Scots. Originally some foundation existed for an animosity 
which was afterwards, and for so many years, sustained by 
a sorry feminine spite and vanity. Mary had tolerated, if 
not encouraged, the asseverations of her partisans, that her 
claim to the throne of England was preferable to that of her 
masculine and powerful rival. She had also been rash enough 
to commit the still graver offense of assuming the arms of 
England, and quartering them on all her equipages and liveries ; 
and maintaining and justifying this act when remonstrances 
were addressed to her, Elizabeth clearly saw that it was per- 
sonal to herself, or else why had it not been perpetrated 
during the reign of her sister? Consequently it could only 
be viewed as an indication of an intention to question the 
legitimacy of her birth, on the first favorable opportunity, 
and to dispute her right to the throne : I tide irae : these were 
provocations sufficient to engender in the selfish and energetic 
mind of Elizabeth a mortal hatred. 

Thus, by personal rancor, public policy and religious bias, 
she was incited to interfere in the affairs of Scotland, 
and to give her strongest support to the Protes- 
tants of that country. The publication of state doc- 
uments of that period recently, has shown that Henry 
the Eighth established a regular system of espionage 
in Scotland, which was carefully maintained by Elizabeth, 
The great object of the Tudors was to bring Scotland under 
the dominion of England. It is now clearly established that 
when Mary of Scotland retired, after the death of Francis 
the Second, from France to her own kingdom, nearly the 
whole of the Scottish nobles were in the pay of Elizabeth, 
and that Mary actually came home into the bosom of a nest 
of aristocratic traitors. Those nearest to her throne, not ex- 
cepting her half-brother, were spies upon her, and misrepre- 
senters of her actions, working against her and in the inter- 
est of the English queen. When, therefore, emissaries were 
dispatched to her by the leaders of the congregation, to solicit 
from her succor, she gladly granted it, and equipped a fleet, 
which she ordered to co-operate with Mary's rebellious sub- 
jects. The result of this alliance was the defeat of the Scotch 
and French Catholics, and the execution of a treaty of peace, 



408 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

in which, among other important concessions, Mary was made 
to stipulate to abstain from bearing the arms of England. 
But Mary, as long as her husband Francis the Second lived, 
refused to ratify the proceeding of her ambassadors ; and 
though after his death, which occurred in 1560, she desisted 
from assuming any longer the arms, she refused to forego 
her claim to them. 

For the sake of trutK, and for the sake, too, of the deli- 
cacy of our readers, we will affirm our belief that Elizabeth's 
historical "amours" were but flirtations ; stupid, ridiculous, and 
most reprehensible, yet still only flirtations. Having thus, 
we trust, demonstrated this our persuasion, we shall now pro- 
ceed, with diminished diffidence, to narrate some of the many 
disagreeable passages in the life of our willful and unexem- 
plary queen. 

The affair of Raleigh and his cloak is universally known ; 
and we shall therefore prefer to relate some incidents con- 
nected with her partiality to Leicester, which are not so gen- 
erally notorious. Sir James Melville, the ambassador of Mary 
at the court of Elizabeth, was an observing man, well skilled 
in the world, and an accomplished courtier. He had been 
selected by his mistress for this office as a sort of spy upon 
the weaknesses of her rival, and also as a suitable person to 
ingratiate himself with her, and thus qualify himself to pro- 
mote a good understanding between the two queens. How 
competent he was for observation, the following extracts from 
his work will show : 

"The ceremony of creating Lord Robert Dudley Earl of 
Leicester was performed at Westminster with great solemnity, 
the queen herself helping to put on his robes, he sitting with 
his knees before her with a great gravity; but she could not 
refrain from putting her hand in his neck, smiling and tick- 
ling him ; the French ambassador and I standing by." He 
subsequently adds, "The queen, my mistress, had instructed 
me to leave matters of gravity sometimes, and cast in merry 
purposes, lest otherwise I should be wearied ; she being well 
informed of that queen's natural temper. Therefore in de- 
claring my observations of the customs of Dutchland, Poland, 
and Italy, the buskins of the women were not forgot, and 
what country weed I thought best becoming gentlewomen. 
The queen said she had clothes of every sort ; which, every 



ELIZABETH. 409 

day thereafter so long as I was there, she changed. One 
day she had the English weed, another the French, and an- 
other the Italian, and so forth. She asked me which of them 
became her best? I answered, in my judgment, the Italian 
dress ; which answer I found pleased her well ; for she delighted 
to show her golden colored hair, wearing a caul and bonnet 
as they do in Italy. Her hair was more reddish than yellow, 
and curled in appearance naturally. She desired to know of 
me what colored hair was reputed ' best ? and whether my 
queen's hair or hers was best? and which of them two was 
fairest? I answered the fairness of them both was not their 
worst faults. But she was earnest with me to declare which 
of them both was fairest? I said, that she was the fairest 
queen in England, and mine in Scotland. Yet she appeared 
in earnest ; I answered that they were both the fairest ladies 
in their countries; that her majesty was whiter, but my queen 
was very lovely. She inquired, which of them was of higher 
stature ? I said, my queen. Then, said she, she is too high ; 
for I, myself, am neither too high nor too low." 

Having learned from Melville that his mistress sometimes 
recreated herself by playing on the harpsichord an instrument 
on which she herself excelled, she gave orders to Lord Huns- 
den that he should lead the ambassador, as it were casually, 
into an adjoining room, where he might overhear her per- 
form. When Melville, as if ravished with the hannony, broke 
into the queen's chamber, she pretendel to be displeased with 
his intrusion ; but soon, affecting to be appeased, demanded 
of him whether she or Mary best performed on that instru- 
ment ? 

On another opportunity she was equally ridiculous before 
the ambassadors of Holland. The incident is thus related by 
Du Maurier : 

"Prince Maurice, being one day in a pleasant humor, told 
my father that Queen Elizabeth was, as the rest of her sex, 
so weak as to love to be thought handsome : that the States, 
having sent to her a famous embassy, composed of the most 
considerable men, and, among others, a great many young 
gentlemen ; one of them having, at the first audience, stead- 
fastly stared at the queen, turned to an Englishman whom he 
had known in Holland, and said, that he could not conceive 
why people spoke so slightingly of the queen's beauty; that 



410 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

they did her great wrong ; that he liked her extremely ; and 
added many far stronger and less delicate expressions of ad- 
miration ; and all the while he spoke, he gazed from time to 
time rapturously on her, and then again turned to the English- 
man. Elizabeth, whose eyes were more fixed on these pri- 
vate persons than on the ambassadors, as soon as the audience 
was finished, sent for her English subject, and commanded 
him, under pain of her displeasure, to tell her precisely what 
the Hollander had said to him ; for she was quite assured, 
by the manner and gestures of both, that she had been the 
subject of their conversation. The gentleman for a long time 
hesitated to comply, alleging that only trifles were- spoken, 
equally unworthy and unfit to be communicated to her ma- 
jesty; but Elizabeth peremptorily persisting, he was at length 
compelled to tell her the love which the Dutchman expressed 
for her person, and the very phrases in which his admiration 
was conveyed. The result of this affair was that each ambas- 
sador was presented with a gold chain worth two hundred 
pounds, and each of their retinue with one worth twenty-five 
pounds ; but the Hollander who had lauded the queen's beauty 
in language which cannot be repeated, received a gold chain 
worth four hundred pounds, which chain he wore about his 
neck as long as he lived." 

In Sir Walter Scott's "History of Scotland" is a passage 
which records her vanity with such whimsical gravity that 
it must be transferred to these pages in his own words : 

"Throughout her whole reign, Queen Elizabeth, pre-emi- 
nent as a sovereign, had never been able to forbear the asser- 
tion of her claims as a wit and as a beauty. When verging 
to the extremity of life her mirror presented her with hair 
too gray and features too withered to reflect, even in her 
own opinion, the features of that fairy queen of immortal youth 
and beauty, in which she had been painted by one of the 
most charming poets of that poetic age. She avenged her- 
self by discontinuing the consultation of her looking-glass, 
which no Lnger flattered her, and exchanged that monitor of 
the toilet for the false, favorable, and pleasing reports of the 
ladies who attended her. This indulgence of vanity brought 
as usual, its own punishment. The young females who waited 
upon her turned her pretensions into ridicule ; and, if the 
report of the times is true, ventured even to personal insult, 
by misplacing the cosmetics which she used for the repair of 



ELIZABETH. 4"! 

her faded charms, sometimes daring to lay on the royal ^ nose 
the carmine which ought to have embellished the cheeks."* 

Scarcely can it be believed that the individual who has just 
been exhibited in forms at once so ridiculous and repulsive, 
can, under another phase, have extorted from even a Jesuit 
the following exalted praise : 

"Elizabeth is one of those extraordinary persons whose very 
name imprints in one's mind so great an idea that the noblest 
descriptions that are given of her are much below it. Never 
crowned head understood better how to govern, nor made 
fewer false steps, during so long a reign. Charles the Fifth's 
friends could easily reckon his mistakes; but Elizabeth's foes 
were reduced to invent them for her. Thus, in her is verified 
this of the Gospel, "That often the children of this world are 
more prudent in their views and aims than the children of 
light.' Elizabeth's design was to reign, govern, and be mis- 
tress; to keep her people in obedience, and her neighbors in 
awe; affecting neither to weaken her subjects nor to encroach 
on foreigners, yet never suffering any to lessen that supreme 
power which she equally knew how to maintain by policy or 
force ; for none at that time had more wit, management, and 
penetration than she. She understood not the art of war, 
yet knew so well how to breed excellent soldiers, that England 
had never seen a greater number, or more experienced, than 
those which existed during her reign. "f 

Yet of this great and penetrating sovereign was Lord Robert 

*Sir Walter Scott's "History of Scotland," vol. ii. "Queen Elizabeth 
seems to have been a favorite comic theme with this great author and 
good man. In one of his letters, he mentions the rapturous and almost 
perennial fits of laughter into which he and his family were thrown by 
a friend's transmission to him of a drawing of Queen Elizabeth, repre- 
senting her dancing, according to. Melville's statement, 'high and dis- 
posedly.' He writes, in reply, 'The inimitable virago came safe, and 
was 'welcomed by the inextinguishable laughter of all who looked upon 
the capricoles.'" Mr. Lockhart adds. "That this production of Mr. 
Sharpe's pencil, and the delight with which Scott used to expatiate on its 
merits, must be well remembered by every one who used to visit the poet 
at Abbotsford."— Lockhart's Life of Scott. What may be the senti- 
ments of the many, the writer of this note certainly cannot pretend to 
determine : but, speaking for himself, he can declare that there are few 
things could occasion him more amusement than the sight of a drawing 
cleverly executed, representing Elizabeth in her private chamber, danc- 
ing "high and disposedly." 

f'Histoire des Revolutions d Angleterre," torn. ii. Paris, 1693. 



412 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Dudley for many years the declared favorite. He had even 
great influence in her councils, though as utterly unworthy 
of public as of her private distinction. Proud, insolent, self- 
ish, ambitious, deficient in generosity, honor and humanity, 
and atoning for none of his vices by the possession of either 
talent or courage, he contrived to blind and sway the queen 
solely by the charms of his person, address and carriage. 
Such was her infatuation that, during a large portion of her 
reign, he was in constant hope of becoming her husband ; 
and to obtain this great object of his selfish desires, he was 
supposed to have murdered a lady whom he had privately 
married. This is the man, odious as he was, whom Elizabeth 
had the craft to propose to be united to Mary, well knowing 
that that unfortunate sovereign would never descend to so 
unequal and ignoble an alliance. But with this offer was 
connected one amusing feature ; the excessive fear of Leices- 
ter lest the proposition should be accepted. He was furious 
against Cecil, with whom he believed it to have been origi- 
nated, as a wily scheme intended to have made him equally 
distasteful to both princesses. But the truth is, that Eliza- 
beth, in spite of all her partiality, valuing him somewhat dif- 
ferently from what he valued himself, was the real concocter 
of the project, well assured that it would never be realized. 
It is this knowledge of his perfect security which imparts such 
a ludicrous air to Leicester's profound consternation and ap- 
prehension. 

Elizabeth, though usually only too full of dissimulation 
and chicanery, never abounded more in these detestable quali- 
ties .than during the whole long term of her negotiation and 
intercourse with Mary, Artifice followed artifice; affected 
urgency only cloaked real opposition; when she seemed to 
hasten she was only laboring to retard; and the expression 
of a wish to be circumspect was only the masque for some 
incentive to precipitancy. In fact, her whole life was one 
continual stratagem in dealing with any whom she disliked ; 
and great must have been the ability of those who could have 
discriminated her true objects from her false representations. 
For years, by her treacherous and malignant maneuvers, she 
contrived to prevent the re-marriage of a youthful and royal 
widow, who possessed certainly none of her own incapacity and 
dislike to wedlock, and who had a greater number of real 
suitors than probably even Elizabeth herself had ever attracted. 



ELIZABETH. 413 

No doubt that, with regard to some of the candidates, politi- 
cal reasons existed to render an English sovereign reluctant 
that they should obtain the hand of the Scottish queen; Don 
John of Austria, for instance, would have been but a sorry 
neighbor for the British crown. But even when the proposi- 
tion was made to her that Mary should be united to Darnley, 
a match to which no public obstructions existed, the rancorous 
opposition and finesse were not only not suspended, but ap- 
peared to be augmented. 

The subject of marriages was indeed a fruitful source of 
torment to her : the very possibility of anybody connected with 
the royal blood of England, or of any favorite of herself, 
daring even to contemplate wedlock, seems to have had the 
power of rendering her almost insane with wrath and malice. 
This morbid state of mind was the cause of her cruel treat- 
ment of the unhappy Lord Hertford and his consort Lady 
Catherine Grey. Her conduct to these distinguished persons 
was atrocious : she fined them ruinously, committed them to 
the Tower, and detained the husband in captivity during nine 
years, without even attempting to allege against them the 
commission of the smallest crime, excepting that gravest and 
blackest in her distorted vision — wedlock. 

The truth is, that if any one of the present day desires to 
acquire an entire knowledge of Elizabeth, he must search for 
it not only among the English and Scotch, but among foreign 
contemporary writers. The ambassadors of these times were 
the most wily and insinuating of men, and the most acute 
and cautious of spies ; and there is no doubt that they obtained 
information at the courts to which they were accredited often 
not accessible even to the most influential of the natives. Imag- 
ine how profoundly subtle must be the man who would be 
selected by such a woman as Catherine de Medici to be her 
emissary at a state over which presided, such a woman as 
Elizabeth ! From these men proceeded, especially after the 
death of the latter, many valuable particulars and disclosures, 
all of which were recorded by the continental authors; and, 
to name only three, he who has not perused Du Maurier, Leti, 
and principally Bayle, has not a complete notion of this ex- 
traordinary princess. 

Her conduct in relation to the contemplated marriage of 
herself with two successive Dukes of Anjou was in complete 
accordance with the determination she expressed to Melville 



414 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

and so many others, "that she was resolved to die a virgin.'' 
It is evident that she never had the smallest intention to 
unite herself with either of them ; though to establish this 
opinion in his mind, the reader must not limit himself to a 
consultation of the pages of Hume. This great historian re- 
veals, that with respect to the elder duke, the whole negotia- 
tion was equally a stratagem, both with regard to Catherine 
and Elizabeth ; but with regard to the second, he seems to 
think that her affections were involved, though the object of 
them was, what he does not state, "a very ugly man." The 
most amusing feature of this grand contention of wile between 
two such illustrious practitioners as the queen-mother of France 
and the maiden-ruler of England is, that each being far too 
clever to fail, only succeeded by each cheating the other. The 
object of Catherine was to prevent suspicion arising in the 
mind of either Elizabeth or the Huguenots of her sanguinary 
resolutions with regard to the latter, by courting the alliance 
of a protestant princess for her son. The object of Eliza- 
beth, in responding to the snare was the knowledge that she 
could render it the means of weakening the ties between 
France and Scotland and of intimidating Spain. The pur- 
poses of both the arch-deceivers were obtained, and both, 
therefore, were" mutual dupes ; yet one would have thought 
that either of two such persons might safely have said to the 
other what Grimbald demands of Philidel, — 

"Wo'uldst thou, a devil, hope to cheat a devil?" 

After even the horrible massacre of St. Bartholomew, still 
the scheming queen would not manifest her horror and dis- 
gust for the diabolical perpetrators ; but rather than offend 
France utterly, and appear isolated to Spain, she consented 
that an attempt should be commenced to negotiate a marriage 
between her and the Duke of Alencon, the younger brother 
of her previous suitor. This affair languished for no less a 
term than nine years ; when Alencon himself, who had suc- 
ceeded to the title of Anjou, and was, probably, innocent — 
being restless, weak and ambitious — sent over an ambassador 
to plead his suit, preparatory to his own visit to England. This 
emissary, whose name was Simier, seems to have been a clever, 
specious man, and completely qualified to fool the queen "to 
the top of her bent." So entirely did he succeed, that at last 
even the jealousy of Leicester, who had now been the pre- 



ELIZABETH. 415 

dominant favorite for so many years, was aroused, and he 
began to fear that the affections of the queen had really been 
won for either the agent or the principal. To render the 
former, if not both, odious, Leceister spread a report that 
Simier had gained an ascendant over her majesty, not by nat- 
ural means, but by incantations and love-potions. In revenge 
for this libel, the object of it communicated to the queen, what 
none had hitherto dared to disclose to her, that Leicester had 
committed no less heinous an iniquity than that of having 
married, without his sovereign's knowledge, the widow of the 
Earl of Essex. This was touching Elizabeth on her sore, or 
rather her mad, point. Her fury was awful : she threatened 
to confine the criminal in the Tower ; and why she did not 
execute her threat, seems now quite inexplicable. The conse- 
qunce of this recrimination, on the part of Simier, was such 
a feud between him and Leicester, that the latter is supposed 
to have* employed an assassin to rid him of his enemy. As 
soon as the report of this sanguinary intention reached the 
queen, she issued a proclamation, taking the French minister 
under her immediate protection ; so cleverly had this wily man 
ingratiated himself with one who had an irresistible affection 
for all the idlest and emptiest gallantries and levities. 

At last, the principal himself arrived in London ; and though, 
as we have stated, he was her favorite aversion, a very ugly 
man, she assumed towards him such an attitude as could not 
fail to make him believe that ultimately she would bestow upon 
him her hand. A rapid succession of balls and courtly fes- 
tivities ensued ; the people were deceived as well as the lover ; 
and a citizen wrote an angry attack on her majesty, entitled 
"The Gulph in which England will be swallowed by the Frnech 
marriage." The writer was apprehended, tried, and sentenced 
to lose his right hand as a libeler : but such was the courage, 
and such almost the slavish loyalty of the man, that as soon 
as the sentence had been executed, with his left hand he 
grasped his hat, waved it round his head, and shouted, ''God 
save the queen !" 

Robertson says, "Elizabeth had long amused the French 
court by carrying on a treaty of marriage with the Duke of 
Alencon, the king's brother. But whether, at the age of forty- 
five, she really intended to marry a prince of twenty, whether 
the pleasure of being flattered and courted made her listen 
to the addresses of so young a lover, or whether considera- 
tions of interest predominated in this as well as in every 



416 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

other transaction of her reign, are problems in history which 
we are not concerned to resolve. During the progress of this 
negotiation, which was drawn out to an extraordinary length, 
Mary could expect no assistance from the French court, and 
seems to have held little correspondence with it ; and there was 
no period in her reign wherein Elizabeth enjoyed more perfect 
security." 

All these suppositions are most sensible and nrobable, and 
if we add to them the fact that for a time Elizabeth greatly 
feared that if rejected, her suitor would have married the 
daughter of Philip, we find at once her motives for the per- 
formance of this amatory farce. But farce, as well as tragedy, 
must have its last act, for the sake of both actors and specta- 
tors ; and as soon as Elizabeth found that she had thoroughly 
wearied both herself and others, she dropped the curtain on an 
exhibition which had been sustained for simply ten years, and 
gave the cajoled and unfortunate duke his conge. He walked 
down the stairs expressing, very naturally, unbounded dis-> 
gust ; and railing vehemently against the inconstancy of women 
in general, and of islanders in particular. A ring which the 
royal jilt had given him he cast from him in his wrath, then 
fled the country, repaired to the Netherlands, whence he was 
soon expelled ; returned to France, and there died, the dupe, 
if not the victim, of a ruthless intriguante and coquette. 

Of the public incidents of this reign we shall take no further 
notice. The destruction of the Spanish Armada is a tale 
known by heart, and the other great event, the decapitation of 
Mary, is almost equally notorious. We shall, therefore, mere- 
ly report what a pious and benevolent pope remarked upon the 
latter subject. 

Pope Sixtus, having caused the Count de Popoli to be be- 
headed, rejoiced Avith his favorites at having obtained the 
head of a count. But when he was acquainted with what 
had befallen in England, he began to esteem nothing in the 
world to be compared, either in felicity or greatness, to Queen 
Elizabeth ; of whom, as if he bemoaned the conquests of Alex- 
ander, he said, "O beata fcemina che a gustata il piacer di far 
salfare une testa coronata !"* 

We shall now resume Elizabeth's personal history. Three 



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head !" — D'Aubigne, Histoirc Universelle, 





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ELIZABETH. 417 

of her chiefly distinguished' lovers being now disposed of, we 
have only to deal with the last and most influential — Essex. 
Robert Devereux, who bore this title, which he rendered trag- 
ically celebrated, was born in 1567, consequently was thirty- 
four years younger than Elizabeth. Though Leicester never 
entirely acquired her favor after the revelation to her of his 
marriage, it was until after his death that Essex seems to have 
laid any hold upon the partiality of the queen. In 1591, when 
she confided to him the command of the expedition dispatched 
to support Henry the Fourth, he had evidently attracted her 
favorable notice; but in 1597, when Lord Effingham was in- 
trusted by her with secret orders to prevent Essex from expos- 
ing himself to the chief risk in the attack upon Cadiz, her pred- 
ilection had become so strong that she seems not even to have 
possessed the decent desire to disguise it ; yet at this time she 
had nearly perfected thirteen lustres, or, in other words, had 
just arri\ed at the sober age of sixty-five. 

Lord Bacon has left an elaborate attempt at an apology for 
his own shameful conduct to Essex in his disgrace, in which, 
without at all clearing himself, he describes, in the most char- 
acteristic manner, the universal peremptoriness and willful- 
ness of this authoritative and wayward sovereign. Nothing 
was too large or too small, too wide or too narrow, to escape 
her supervision and imperious interference. A curious extract 
from the pages of Hentzner, a traveler cited by Hume, shall 
now be laid before the reader ; and we imagine we shall then 
have finally demonstrated that a residence at the court of Eliza- 
beth could neither have been very pleasant, nor at all encour- 
aging to a man of sense, of feeling, and self-respect. 

"No one spoke to Queen Elizabeth without kneeling, though 
now and then she raised some with waving her hand. Nay, 
wherever she turned her eyes every one fell on his knees. 
Even when she was absent, those who covered her table, though 
often persons of quality, neither approached it, nor retired from 
it without kneeling, and that often three times." 

The names of Shakespeare, Sir Philip Sydney,, and Spenser 
have cast an imperishable luster over the reign of Elizabeth ; 
yet, after all, this was not a school in which to have reared 
high-minded and honest men. The intensity of their emula- 
tion stimulated the talents of her ministers and courtiers ; the 
state and its mistress had brilliant and indefatigable servants ; 
but among the courtiers Diogenes would have failed to dis- 
cover the object of his search. 



418 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

We shall now extract from the pages of Bayle, the account 
of her death, and the occasion of it : 

"After the execution of the Earl of Essex, the queen was a 
pretty long time as merry as before, particularly during the 
embassie of Mareschal de Biron. Therefore 'tis very likely 
that if she died for grief upon account of the Earl of Essex, 
'twas not so much because she had put him to death, as be- 
cause she came to know that he had recurr'd to her clemency 
in such a way as she had promised would never fail. M. du 
Maurier will explain us this little mystery : — It will neither 
be needless, says he, nor disagreeable, to add here what the 
same Prince Maurice had from Mr. Carleton, the English 
Ambassador in Holland, who died secretary of state, so much 
known under the name of Lord Dorchester, a man of very 
great merit — viz., that Queen Elizabeth gave a ring to the 
Earl of Essex, in the height of her passion, bidding him to 
keep it well ; and that whatever he might do, she would for- 
give him, if he sent her back the same ring. The earl's ene- 
mies having since prevailed with the queen (who, besides, was 
provoked by the earl's contempt of her beauty, which decayed 
through age), she caused him to be tried for his life; and in 
the time of his condemnation, still expected that he would 
return her ring, when she might pardon him according to her 
promise. The earl, in the last extremity, had recourse to the 
wife of Admiral Howard, his kinswoman, and entreated her, 
by means of a person he trusted, to deliver that ring into the 
queen's own hands ; but her husband, one of the earl's mortal 
enemies, to whom she imprudently revealed it, having hindered 
her from performing the message, the queen consented to his 
death, full of indignation against so haughty and fierce a man, 
who chose rather to die than fly to her clemency. Some time 
after, the admiral's lady being fallen sick and given over by 
her physicians, sent the queen word that she had a secret of 
great importance to disclose to her before she died. The 
queen being come to her bedside, and having caused everybody 
to withdraw, the admiral's lady delivered to her preposterously 
that ring from the Earl of Essex, excusing her not delivering 
it sooner, because her husband would not let her. The queen 
withdrew instantly, struck with a mortal grief, passing fifteen 
days sighing, without taking any sustenance, laying herself 
down on her bed with her clothes on, and getting up a hun- 
dred times in the night. At last she famished and grieved her- 



ELIZABETH. 4.ig 

self to death, for having consented to the death of her lover, 
who had recurr'd to her mercy." 

Thus died a woman, who, with all her levity and lack of 
modesty, is yet most probably entitled to demand of posterity to 
inscribe on her tomb, "Here lies a virgin queen;" though pos- 
terity, or at least the austere portion of it, may, in acceding to 
her claim, feel disposed to stipulate, that the orthography of 
the last word shall be changed, and that it shall be written 
"quean/.' Even in her own day, such was the opinion of some 
of the Puritans ; but widely different were the impressions she 
left in the minds of the many. As a specimen of the un- 
bounded admiration which her subjects continued to express 
for her after her death, we will extract from old Camden a 
species of epitaph, which he composed for her. We print it 
as we find it in the original folios, determined that the en- 
comiastic antiquary shall not be deprived by us of any of his 
loyal intentions to be emphatic. 

"Alas ! how inconsiderable is her monument in comparison 
of the noble qualities of so heroical a lady ! She herself is 
her own monument, and a more magnificent and sumptuous 
one than any other. For let these noble actions recommend 
her to the praise and admiration of posterity : — Religion re- 
formed, PEACE ESTABLISHED, MONEY REDUCED TO ITS TRUE 

value, a most complete fleet built, our naval glory re- 
stored, rebellion suppressed, england for forty-three 
years together most prudently governed, enriched, and 
strengthened, scotland rescued from the ' french, 
France itself relieved, the Netherlands supported, 
Spain and Ireland quieted, and the whole world twice 
sailed around/' 

Yet, after all, we must not be too prone to be perpetually 
lauding her political sagacity and conduct. Her success and 
glory were probably as much the effect of chance as of talent. 
Not by benevolent objets wisely adopted and resolutely pur- 
sued, but by accidents of temper and disposition, she became 
the ruler of her time. If her people had not been as pliant 
and servile, as she was willful and imperious, instead of an 
increase of the national power, rebellion and ruin must have 
occurred. If her actions be closely investigated, the sources 
of the public prosperity will be found more in her vices than 
in her virtues ; yet during her reign, England obtained so vast 
an advance in the European system, that not only her own sub- 
jects, but succeeding generations, have been unable to scan her 



420 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

except through an atmosphere of light which dazzles and con- 
fuses their judgment. Even the philosophical and dispas- 
sionate Hume is repeatedly yielding to what may be termed 
an hereditary incitement to commend extravagantly her talents 
for empire; and the consequence is, that he is constantly con- 
tradicting in one page what he advanced in a prior one. Yet 
no one knew better than' this great historian the real causes of 
her splendid career; for, after repeating a series of her most 
arbitrary, dishonest, and impolitic public acts, he adds : — "Not- 
withstanding this conduct, Elizabeth contrived to be the most 
popular sovereign that ever swayed the scepter of England, 
because the maxims of her reign were comfortable to the prin- 
ciples of the times and to the opinions generally entertained 
with regard to the constitution." 



Anne of Denmark, 

QUEEN OF JAMES THE FIRST. 

Anne was the second daughter of Frederick the Second, 
third king of Denmark, in the line which succeeded that of 
Christiern the Second, deposed for his extravagant excesses. 
She was born on the 12th of December, 1575. Her grand- 
father was the greedy Lutheran who absorbed the whole prop- 
erty of the Church into his civil list ; and who strengthened 
his crown by uniting to it in perpetuity his father's duchies of 
Schleswig and Holstein. Her father became wealthier still 
by the tolls of Elsinore, and by enormous duties on a partic- 
ular and very popular beer. Her brother, younger than her- 
self by fifteen months, who succeeded to the Danish throne in 
his eleventh and was crowned in his twentieth year, became 
James the First's boon companion, and was the king so cele- 
brated in Howell's Letters for having drank thirty-five toasts 
at the great banquet at Rhensburgh. He was carried away 
in his chair at the thirty-sixth, and left the officers of his court 
unable to rise from the floor till late next day. 

Little is known of the youth of the Princess Anne but that 
she was borne about in arms till she was nine years old. Be- 
fore she was ten there was talk of her marriage at her father's 
court. A daughter of Denmark, in the preceding century had 
been wedded to a Scottish king; and questions of territory, 
involving the ultimate possession of the Orkney and Shet- 
land Islands, remained unsettled between the two countries. 
These now induced the proposition of a similar alliance, and 
the hand of this young princess was offered to the reigning 
king of Scotland. Four years had to pass, however, .before 
state objections to the marriage were removed; and when it 
was celebrated by proxy at Cronenburg, on the 20th of August, 
1589, Anne's father was dead, and the kingdom was governed 
by a regency in her brother's name. From Cronenburg, at 

421 



422 . THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the close of the ceremony, a fleet of twelve Danish ships set 
sail for Scotland, to convey the wife to her new home ; but 
adverse winds arose, and after making- the Scottish coast the 
Danish admiral was twice driven back to the coast of Norway. 
It was not thought expedient to hazard a third attempt ; and 
the young queen remained at Upslo till her husband should 
be made acquainted with this unlooked-for interruption to her 
voyage. A messenger was sent to James. 

He swore at once that witchcraft was at the bottom of it, 
and he had great faith in his power over witches. He had 
been busy torturing and burning old women for this imaginary 
crime while Elizabeth of England was murdering his mother ; 
and his experience gave him confidence that he might voyage 
safely to Upslo himself, and bring his wife safely home. Of 
any notion that such an enterprise might be prompted by con- 
jugal eagerness he has been careful to disabuse posterity ; hav- 
ing drawn up a statement of its secret reasons for the members 
of his privy council, in which he laboriously clears himself of 
that imputation. He begins the paper by stating that public 
and no private considerations had governed him altogether in 
the matter of his marriage ; for as to his "ain nature,''. God be 
his witness, he could have abstained "langer nor the welfare 
of his country" could possibly have permitted. As to the jour- 
ney over the sea he was now about to make, he describes it as 
a determination of his own, "not ane of the haiil council being 
present ;" and which he had taken thus privately as a contra- 
diction to the common slanders that his chancellor led him 
daily by the nose, and that he was an irresolute ass who could 
do nothing of himself. Besides, he characteristically adds, 
there was really no danger. Set aside the witches, and he was 
quite safe. "The shortness of the way ; the surety of the pas- 
sage, being clean of all sands, foirlands, or sic like dangers ; the 
harbouries in these parts sa suir ; and na foreign fleets resorting 
upon these seas ;" are among the amusing assurances he gives 
his council that he is not going to put himself in jeopardy for 
his wife, or any other mortal. 

In November, 1589, at Upslo. James and Anne, he in his 
twenty-fourth and she in her fifteenth year, for the first time 
saw each other. He presented himself unannounced, just as 
he had landed, "buites and all ;" and straightway volunteered 
a kiss, "quhilk ;" startled not a little at the first sight of her lord, 
"the queen refusit." Whatever her dreams may have been, on 
this wind-swept coast of Norway or by the stormy steep of El- 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 423 

sinore, of the lover she was to meet from over sea, they could 
hardly have prepared her for the waddling, babbling, bluster- 
ing, unprincely figure, that thus suddenly proclaimed itself 
the' Scottish king and tried to fling its arms around her neck- 
in a paroxysm of admiration. The account of James's per- 
son which was given a few years later, on authority which has 
never been disputed, will explain the somewhat natural re- 
pulsion awakened by such attempted caresses. The son of an 
unhappy mother and a miserable marriage, struck even before 
his birth by the paralyzing terror of Rizzio's murder, James 
was born a coward, and never lived to be able to endure 
even the sight of a drawn sword. He was of the middle 
stature, and with a tendency to corpulence, which the fashion 
of his ' dress very much exaggerated. His clothes were so 
made as to form a woolen rampart round his person. His 
breeches were in great plaits and full stuffed, and his doublets 
quilted for stiletto-proof. He had little or no beard ; and 
his large eve so rolled after any stranger that came into his 
presence, that "maney for shame have left the roome, as being 
out of countenance." His tongue was greatly too big for 
his mouth, and hence he not only slobbered his words in talk- 
ing but his person in drinking. It was, says honest Balfour, 
"as if eatting his drinke, wich cam out into the cupe in each 
syde of his mouthe." . His skin was as soft as taffeta sarse- 
net ; and it felt thus, we are told, because he never washed 
his hands, but only rubbed his fingers slightly in the wet end 
of a napkin. Finally, he never could walk straight. His 
steps formed circles; and such from his birth was the weak- 
ness of his legs that he was "ever leaning on other men's 
shoulders." From the first salute of such a companion for 
life, from the rude embrace of such an indecent clown, the 
young princess might reasonably shrink a little. She was 
herself less handsome than she desired to be thought; but 
she had the spirit and attractiveness of youth ; with some bold- 
ness of feature she had great liveliness and beauty of expres- 
sion, and she preserved these charms to middle age. 

The marriage was celebrated at Upslo on the 23rd of Novem- 
ber; a third celebration took place at Cronenburg in the fol- 
lowing January, amid festivities that did justice to the jocund 
fame of Denmark; and James found the Danish drink so 
much to his taste, and so approved the depth of the carous- 
ing, that from month to month he delayed his departure. They 



424 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

were months of unrestricted feasting and debauchery, varied 
but by visits to Tycho Brahe, whose astrology he reverenced, 
and laughed at his astronomy ; by marvelous revelations on 
the subject cf witchcraft ; and by scholastic disquisitions on 
predestination and freewill. The young queen having thus 
early foretaste of the life she was to look for in Scotland, 
uneasy thoughts of that impending future became soon her 
unwelcome companions ; and she, too, had her visits to as- 
trologers, in the hope of fathoming the years that were to 
come. They "flattered" her, says Carte the historian, with 
such computations of James's horoscope as promised his early 
death. He was to live till he was king of England, and was 
then to lose his senses and perish in prison. Already able 
with calmness to contemplate such a catastrophe, Anne of 
Denmark landed with James on the shore at Leith, on May- 
day, 1590- 

Her first experience in her new dominions was of her hus- 
band's poverty and unpopularity. Unwilling contributions, 
even to the loan of silver spoons, had to be levied for the feast 
of her coronation ; and unruly ministers of the kirk would 
have omitted that coronation ceremony which made her the 
Lord's anointed. Nevertheless she was anointed as well as 
crowned queen ; and fountains ran thin claret at the Edin- 
burgh Cross, and pageants were exhibited at the Nether Bow, 
and for her principal home she selected the palace of Dum- 
fermline ; and, not without sundry discontents and bitter per- 
sonal disputes, her dower was settled, her revenue, and her 
household. James meanwhile had completed bills of indict- 
ment against divers witches ; and three or four wretched old 
women, after torture to induce confession, were burnt for 
having conspired with witches in Norway to raise the storms 
that had delayed the queen's coming into Scotland. Elated 
' by his success in this affair, he soon after wrote his Demono- 
logic. He could find no better use for the learning whipped 
into him by George Buchanan, than to help, by its means, 
to make the rest of the world as besotted with superstition 
as himself. In much later years, when, on inheriting the Eng- 
lish throne, he had given audience to one of the most ac- 
complished men of Elizabeth's court, the only record this able 
courtier could preserve of the interview might rather have 
concerned a witch-finder than a so-called learned sovereign. 
"His majesty did much press for my opinion touching the 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 425 

power of Satan in matter of witchcraft ; and asked me, with 
much gravity, if I did truly understand why the devil did 
work more with ancient women than others." 

That he had really a fair share of what the world agrees 
to call learning is nevertheless not to be denied. But it never 
profited or bore generous fruit with .him. When his great 
teacher was reproached for having made him a pedant he 
answered that it was the- best he could make of him. He was 
probably the most ignorant man that was ever esteemed a 
learned one. When it was proposed to him to marry a daugh- 
ter of Denmark, he had to ask where Denmark was, and what 
its kings were, and whether they were not but a better sort 
of merchants, and if they were really held in esteem by any- 
body but only such as could speak Dutch. He scrambled into 
a reputation for worldly cleverness by a species of low natural 
cunning and the vulgar art of circumventing an adversary. 
Henri Quatre referred to this when he called him the wisest 
fool in Christendom. It was in no respect his learning that 
obtained it for him. His learning never helped him to a 
useful thought or a suggestion of practical benefit. Its high- 
est achievements were, mystically to define the prerogative 
as a thing set above the law, to exhibit king-craft as his own 
particular gift from heaven, to denounce presbytery as the 
offspring of the devil, to blow furious counterblasts to tobacco, 
to deal damnation to the unbelievers of witchcraft, and to 
pour out the wraths of the Apocalypse upon popery. Before 
he was twenty he had proved the descendant of Saint Peter 
to be Anti-Christ ; and when he now had finished libeling 
and burning the witches, he secretly set as eagerly to work 
against seditious priests that should attempt rebellion against 
Anti-Christ himself, or on any pretense make resistance to set- 
tled authority. His young wife had soon found wit enough 
to see, however, that to such seditious priests he entirely owed 
his throne ; and she had no lack of spirit to feel that he should 
either have had courage to take open part against them, or 
honesty to refrain from intrigues with his mother's turbulent 
faction. But it was the peculiarity and privilege of James to 
entitle himself to contempt from every party in the state, and 
he had not been slow to merit it from his queen. 

Selfishness, in truth, he seldom scrupled to avow as the 
only allegiance he owned. By the instinct'of self-preservation 
he tried and tested everything. Nor, however odious in itself, 



426 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

may it be denied that he had some excuses for this, in the 
straits through which he had passed in his youth. Alternately 
swayed between the two contending forces ; his person now 
seized by the nobles, the presbytery now governing by his 
name ; he came at last to see his only safety in making ready 
use of either, as occasion happened to serve. Artifice and 
falsehood became thus his cherished councilors ; and his whole 
idea of government merged into mere temporizing habits of 
deceit, such as he afterwards dignified by the name of king- 
craft. That he was in the condition of a king de facto, he 
owed to the presbyterians, who placed him on the throne, but 
only from the papists' opposing faction could he obtain ad- 
mission of • the more coveted rights of a king de jure. It 
thus fared with him alike in religion as in politics ; and if 
he hated anything more than the presbyter who claimed a 
power of controlling the actions of his prince, it was the 
Jesuit who preached the right of the pope to release subjects 
from their allegiance. He had no firm ground in either where r 
on to make a stand, for enmity or friendship. Straightfor- 
wardness, directness, self-support or self-reliance, were things 
entirely unknown to him. His mind like his body, shuffled 
on by circular movements, and had need of the same sup- 
ports, ilence his favoritism which grew from this want and 
weakness, had nothing of man's friendship in it. It was the 
adhesion of the parasitic plant, incapable of self-sustaining life ; 
and it showed the same creeping fondness for corrupt and 
rotten alliances. From the days of Arran to those of Somer- 
set and Buckingham, his tastes were in this respect the same. 
The habits they engendered were as plainly visible in him 
now, as when hereafter on a wider scene they challenged the 
disgust of Europe. We have remarked how carefully he 
warned his councilors against attributing his marriage to 
any personal liking of his own, and he took as open pains at 
all times to avow indifference or aversion to the female sex. 
Nothing gave him greater pleasure than to have it pointedly 
noticed to him in the presence of the whole court, as it was 
in one of Ben Johnson's masques, that he was indifferent and 
cold to the fascinations of women. He disliked their societv 
and despised their attainments. He loved ribaldry, swearing 
and buffoonery too well, and was too passionately fond of 
the chase, to admit of any rivalry or restraint to these more 
delightful indulgences. But he preserved a seemly intercourse 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 427 

with his queen. "The coldness of his temper," says Walter 
Scott in his History, "prevented his regarding her with uxor- 
ious fondness ; but he was goodnatured and civil, and the 
queen was satisfied with the external show of attention." 

Let it at the same time not be wondered at, if, in these days 
of her carelessness and youth, Anne sought also other satis- 
factions. She is said to have found them in the society of 
more pleasing men than her husband ; as well as in those habits 
of extravagant expense, of pleasurable indulgence, and personal 
display, which the records of her life in both kingdoms agree 
in attributing to her. No specific proof exists that should 
doom her name to insertion in the Scandalous Chronicle ; but 
such popular rumors and beliefs of the time as found vent in 
contemporaneous songs and ballads are sufficiently abundant ; 
and without suggesting anything ill natured, it seems certain 
that her preference for the Duke of Lenox in 1593 must have 
been somewhat strongly marked, to give currency to the 
scandal at that time received against her, and to justify in 
some degree the doubts which James, with characteristic gen- 
erosity and manly self-respect, professed to entertain of the 
paternity of the son who was born to him in the following 
year. In the year preceding, it is no less certain, her name 
had been mixed up with that "bonny Earl of Murray," whose 
handsome face and melancholy death made him the hero of 
innumerable songs ; and concerning whom old Balfour relates 
that the queen, more rashly than wisely, some few days be- 
fore his death "commendit" him in the king's hearing, with 
too many epithets, as the properest and most gallant man 
at court, the king replied, "An if he had been twice as fair, 
ye might have excepted me." 

Anne's first child, a son, christened Henry, was born at 
Stirling, early in 1594. Great were the festivities at his birth 
and baptism, and very welcome must have been the gorgeous 
presents that poured in as "God-bairn gifts," for some cups 
of massive gold that Queen Elizabeth sent were soon "meltet 
and spendit." Anne's second child, a daughter, christened 
Elizabeth, was born at Falkland in the autumn of 1596; and 
the mother fell into sad disfavor with the presbytery for trust- 
ing her to the charge of a Scottish noble who had married 
a Roman Catholic wife. "Guid Lord," prayed one of them 
in the pulpit, "we must pray for our queen for the fashion's 
sake; but we have no cause, for she will never do us ony 



428 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

guid." The truth seems to have been that Anne, though bred 
as a "spleeny Lutheran," had incurred unpopularity with the 
kirk less for her favors to episcopacy or her toleration of 
popery, than for a general indifference to all such religious 
pretensions. She was Erastian. Nevertheless, her daughter 
Elizabeth was educated without a touch of heresy ; became in 
after-life the heroine of the protestant cause ; and through 
the youngest of her ten children, the Electress Sophia of 
Hanover, settled the house of Brunswick on the English throne. 
Anne's third child, also a daughter, was born at Dalkeith, at 
the close of 1598; was christened Margaret, and died in in- 
fancy. In November, 1600, her fourth child, a son, christened 
Charles, was born at Dumfermline ; but the events that di- 
rectly preceded this boy's birth were of a strange and excit- 
ing kind and very gloomy were the portents which attended 
his entrance into the world. 

The quarrels of the king and the queen during the years just 
recounted had been notorious past concealment. The guardian- 
ship of her eldest son at times was the ostensible ground, at 
others questions of economy and debt, at others avowed and 
open jealousy. Now it was Chancellor Maitland about whom 
they hotly contended, now the Duke of Lenox or Alexander 
Ruthven, and now the Earl of Marr ; nor did Anne scruple 
to identify herself with that league of James' enemies, who 
had lately failed in a desperate attempt to seize his person and 
usurp his authority. So public were these differences become, 
that the French ambassador reports to his master the fact 
of Anne having threatened her husband's life ; whereto the 
gallant Henri Quatre observes in reply, that James should 
save himself by anticipating her. But a nearer view of these 
contentions is supplied by the correspondence of Sir Ralph 
Win wood, to whom, shortly before Anne's confinement at 
Dumfermline, Sir Henry Neville thus writes : "Out of Scot- 
land we hear there is no good agreement, but rather an open 
dissidence, between the King of Scots and his wife; and many 
are of opinion that the discovery of some affection between 
her and the Earl of Cowrie's brother, who was killed with 
him, was the true cause and motive of all that tragedy." The 
writer refers to the tragedy which is known as the Gowrie 
Conspiracy, which was enacted in August, 1600, at the house 
of the Gowrie family in Perth, and which is still one of the 
darkest mvsteries in the blood-stained annals of Scotland. 



. ANNE OF DENMARK. 429 

The Ruthvens of Gowrie had been concerned for two gen- 
erations in deeds which affected the person of James. The 
son of the Ruthven who first struck at David Rizzio was the 
Earl of Gowrie who expiated on the scaffold his share in the 
"raid of Ruthven," to which he contributed such honesty of 
intention as there was, most of the bravery, and all the human- 
ity. In consenting to his death, to please the profligate Arran 
whose life Lord Gowrie had saved, James forfeited his deep- 
plighted word ; and it was supposed to have been the uneasy 
remembrance of this which chiefly induced him, three years 
later, to restore the family estate and honors. John, the 
present Earl of Gowrie, had passed his youth in Italy, from 
which he had borne away every attainable prize of accom- 
plishment and learning; his brother Alexander was only less 
learned, handsome, and active than himself ; and, at the period 
to which this narrative has arrived, there were probably not 
two men in Scotland from whom a greater career was expected ; 
who were already so much the darlings of the people, to 
whom they represented that extreme party in the kirk for 
which their father had died ; or who, to all outward appear- 
ance, enjoyed so much of the favor of the crown. A great 
post in the government was supposed to be in reserve for 
Gowrie, Alexander had received special confidence as princi- 
pal gentleman of the bedchamber, and their sister Beatrice 
was the most trusted maid-of-honor to the queen. A week 
or. two before the catastrophe to be described, James is said 
to have seen a silver riband belonging to his wife around the 
neck of Alexander Ruthven ; and though the incident can 
hardly be accepted for a truth, it marks the popular belief of 
the dangerous height to which the Gowrie family again 
aspired. Such was their condition on the 5th of August, 
1600. 

At an unusually early hour that morning, the court being 
then at their summer-seat of Falkland, near Perth, James 
disturbed the slumbers of his queen by the noise of his hunt- 
ing preparations. To her impatient questioning of why he 
left so early, he replied that he wished to be astir betimes, 
for he expected to kill a prime buck before noon. Before 
noon, however, he had left the chase ; and shortly after, by his 
own account, he was engaged in a mortal struggle, hand to 
hand, with Alexander Ruthven, in the family house of the 
Gowries at Perth. In the evening of the day, through a 



430 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

howling wind and rain, he returned to Falkland, the hero 
of such a bloody tragedy as had not been transacted even in 
Scotland for many a day. He had left the bodies of John 
Gowrie and his brother dead and mangled on the floor of 
their own private dwelling, to which he declared they had by 
false representations enticed him unattended, for the purpose 
of seizing his person and revenging their father's death, but 
to which he had himself been able to summon his retinue in 
time to baffle the traitors, and murder them where they stood, 
unguarded and unresisting, in the midst of men whose fealty 
was sworn to them. Never was a story so pertinaciously 
told as this, so recommended by oaths and asseverations at 
court, so propped by the terrors of the scaffold, so backed by 
public thanksgivings ordered at market-crosses and so gener- 
ally scouted, and discredited. The utmost extent of belief 
it would seem to have attained was expressed in the remark 
of the shrewdest of James' courtiers, that he believed the 
story because the king told it, but that he would not have given 
credit to his own eyes, had he seen it. The ministers of the 
kirk, however, would not sanction even such scant faith. They 
remembered the hereditary grievances of the Gowries, were 
grateful for their championship of the extreme presbyterian 
party, could see no motive but madness for such, a projected 
assassination of the king, and were at no loss for powerful 
reasons why the king should have been anxious for the assas- 
sination of both the Ruthvens. While seemly professions of 
horror, therefore, and thanksgivings, of decent loyalty, rose 
up from all well-affected quarters, the ministers pertinaciously 
refused to be dismayed, surprised, or thankful. They would 
neither express unfeigned gratitude for the king's deliverance, 
nor belief that he ever was in danger ; and in this they were 
joined by the queen, whom they had formerly, in certain open 
differences with James, lectured from their pulpits on the 
duties of a wife's submission, but whose rebellion in this case 
they could hardly quarrel with. 

Anne was vehement and inconsolable in her sorrow for the 
fate of the Ruthvens. Tidings so terrible travel on the wind, 
and all the news of the dreadful day had reached Falkland 
some hours before the king's return. He found her plunged 
in grief that no sense of joy for his safety could assuage ; and 
it was long before the scenes of altercation and reproach, which 
then began, ceased to be the gossip of the time. She hoped 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 431 

he had succeeded in the chase, she is reported among other 
things to have said to him ; and that the buck he had prom- 
ised to slay was sufficiently noble. Beatrice Ruthven she would 
still have kept near her person ; and though the king persisted 
in thrusting her out, their determined and secret correspond- 
ences became a public scandal. Nor did Anne afterwards scru- 
ple to remark to a noble of the court, who in one of her quar- 
rels for the custody of her children had been told to remind 
her of the powers which the state had vested in the king, 
that "the king should not find her so easv a orev as the Earl of 
Gowrie." 

It is not necessary to the purpose of this narrative that the 
subsequent events which threw a strong color of truth on the 
king's statement of his danger, and which undoubtedly re- 
vealed the existence of a conspiracy in which the Ruthvens 
had taken part, should here be related. Enough has been 
said to illustrate the disposition of the queen to her husband, 
and the circumstances which attended the birth of her second 
son. She was .as far advanced in her pregnancy when the 
shock of these incidents occurred, as Mary of Scots when 
she beheld the death of Rizzio. She left Falkland for the 
castle of Dumfermline, and there awaited her period in seclu- 
sion and sorrow, praying "that Heaven would not visit her 
family with its vengeance for the sufferings of the Ruthvens." 
On the bodies or bones of the two dead Ruthvens, meanwhile, 
the king and parliament sat according to reverend custom ; 
and ultimately sentenced them to ignominious exposure on the 
19th of November. It proved to be the day on which the second 
son of James and Anne was born. He was christened Charles, 
and afterwards inherited the English throne as the first of 
that name. His baptism was sudden, for he was hardly ex- 
pected to outlive his birth ; and it was through an infancy 
and boyhood of almost hopeless feebleness he struggled to his 
ill-fated manhood. His complexional weakness, incapable 
alike of stern resistance or of manly submission, was thus 
unhappily a part of his most sad inheritance. He was nearly 
six years old before he could stand or speak ; his limbs being 
weak and distorted, and his mouth mal-formed. He walked 
with difficulty always ; the stuttering hesitation in his speech 
remained with him to the last ; and these were but the types 
of that wretched weakness of purpose, and obstinacy of irres- 
olution, for which his subjects brought him to the scaffold. 
Verily the sins of the parents are visited upon the children. 



432 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

The last year of James as a mere Scottish king was probably 
the quietest he had passed in hi-s troubled sovereignty. As his 
succession to the English throne drew nearer, his authority in 
his hereditary kingdom grew more strong. Many of his ene- 
mies had perished, others had become impoverished ; and all 
began to think it a wiser and more profitable game to join 
their king in a foray on the incalculable wealth of England, 
than to confine their turbulence against him for the poor prizes 
of his barren and intractable Scotland. But what tamed the 
laity, made the clergy more furious. They saw their sover- 
eign, seated on the English throne, and surrounded by the 
pomps of prelacy, newly armed with engines of oppression 
against themselves ; and never was kirk so rebellious, or king 
so abusive. He protested before the great God that highland* 
caterans and border thieves were not such ungrateful liars 
and vile perjurers as these "Puritan pests in the church;" and, 
in return, synod after synod flamed up against his libels as 
unprincely and ungodly. He was in the thickest fury of this 
contention when the sycophants who had bribed Elizabeth's 
waiting-women for tidings of her last breath, hurried head- 
long into Scotland to salute him as English king. 

He set out upon his happy journey southward on the 5th of 
April, 1603. The queen did not accompany him. She had 
been delivered of a third son, who was christened Robert and 
died soon after its birth, in the preceding year ; she was now 
again with child ; and it was arranged that she should follow 
within a certain period after the king's departure. But of 
that departure she at once availed herself to renew from a 
better vantage-ground the old struggle for the custody of her 
eldest son ; and the trouble she gave the nobles with whom the 
king had left authority, receives amusing expression in the 
letters of the time. The president of the council writes, that 
to utter anything like reason or wisdom was but to incense her 
majesty further against them all, and to augment her passions to 
greater peril. The peril already incurred had cost the life of 
a young prince, born prematurely, and dead as soon as born. 
The Lord Fife adds that this passion of her majesty could not 
"be sa weil mitigat and moderat as by seconding and obeying 
all her directions, quhilk always is subject to zour sacred 
majistey's answers and resolves as oracles." His sacred maj- 
esty's answers for once deserved to be oracular, for he really 
wrote sensibly enough. He counseled his wife to leave her 




'*#<.m.aU. 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 433 

froward unwomanly apprehensions ; reproached her with a 
folly he advises her to cure, that he can never account well of 
an honest and wise servant b'ut she must straightway insist 
it is to compare and prefer him to herself ; and shrewdly bade 
her, in conclusion, think of nothing but thanking God for the 
peaceable possession they had got of England. 

It was indeed something to be thankful for. His progress 
to his new kingdom had been an unexpected triumph. States- 
men and sycophants (much the sa'me thing in those days), 
courtiers, lawyers, clergy, all classes and conditions of public 
men, had rushed racing against each other, as for life or death, 
for the first golden beams of the new-risen sun. As Ben 
Jonson said, in his masterly poet-phrase, they thirsted to 
drink the nectar of his sight. No matter that his sight turned 
out to be anything but nectar, rather indeed the sourest kind 
of small beer ; they drank it with not less avidity. He hanged 
a thief without trial at Newark ; he made public avowal of 
his contempt for women ; he "launched out into indiscreet ex- 
pressions against his own wife ;" he suffered high-born dames 
to approach him on their knees ; he shrank with ludicrous 
terror from drawn swords, and caused them instantly to be 
sheathed ; his dress, his walk, his talk, confounded the congre- 
gation of courtiers ; and Carte even takes upon himself to say 
that "by the time he reached London, the admiration of the 
intelligent world was turned into contempt." The contempt, 
nevertheless, was well disguised. Magnificent entertainments 
awaited him at Newcastle and York ; with splendor not less 
profuse, Sir Robert Cary received him at Widdrington, the 
Bishop of Durham at Durham, Sir Edward Stanhope at Grim- 
ston, Lord Shrewsbury of Worsop, Lord Cumberland at Bel- 
voir Castle, Sir John Harrington at Exton, and Lord Burghley 
at Burghley, Sir Oliver Cromwell at Hinchinbrooke, Sir Wal- 
ter Sadler at Standen, and Sir Henry Cocks at Broxbourne, 
at which latter place the greatest man then living in this uni- 
verse (save one) awaited to do him prostrate service. "Me- 
thinks," said Francis Bacon, after his interview, "his majesty 
rather askes counsel of the time past than the time to come ;" 
and closing up his prophetic vision against the great To Come, 
that wonderful genius took his first base wages in the service 
of the obsolete Past. Nearer and nearer London, meanwhile, 
the throng swelled more and more ; and on came the king, 
hunting, feasting, creating knights by the score, and receiving 



434 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

worship as the fountain 'of honor. Visions of leveling clergy 
and factious nobles, such as had haunted him his whole life 
long, now passed from his aching sight forever. He turned 
to his Scotch followers, and told them they had at last arrived 
in the land of promise. 

But he had yet to see the most important man in this prom- 
ised land. He was awaiting his royal advent at his seat of 
Theobalds, within a few miles of London, on the 3rd of May ; 
and strange must have been the first meeting, at the gate of 
that splendid mansion, between the broad, shambling, shuffling, 
grotesque monarch, and the small, keen, deformed crook-backed, 
capable minister ; between the son of Mary queen of Scots, and 
the son of her chief executioner. It is hardly too much to 
say that Robert Cecil had secured James his throne. He exer- 
cised, no doubt, the wise discretion of a statesman in the 
unhesitating course he took ; he satisfied the national desire, 
and he brought under one crown two kingdoms that could not 
separately exist ; but it remains forever a reproach upon his 
name, that he let slip the occasion of obtaining for the people 
constitutional guarantees which could not then have been 
refused, and might have saved half a century of bloodshed. 
None such were proposed to James. He was allowed to seize 
a prerogative which for upwards of fifty years had been 
strained to a higher pitch than at any previous period of the 
English history ; and his clumsy grasp closed on it without a 
sign of question or remonstrance from the leading statesmen 
of England. "Do I mak the judges? do I mak the bishops?" 
he exclaimed, as the powers of his new dominion dawned on 
his delighted sense. "Then, Godis wauns ! I mak Avhat likes 
me, law and gospel." It was even so. Cecil suffered him to 
make law and gospel as he listed ; left him, by whatever modes 
best pleased him, to incur contempt and sow rebellion at 
home ; and contented himself, by a resolute and sagacious 
policy abroad, with keeping England* still respected and feared 
in her place amid foreign nations. No one served the king 
so ably, or, there is reason to believe, despised him so much. 
In her latter years Elizabeth had exacted of her ministers that 
they should address her kneeling, and some one congratulated 
Cecil that those degrading conditions were passed away. 
"Would to God," he replied, "I yet spake upon my knees!" 
Not a fortnight after he had received James, indeed, he tells 
his friend Harrington how heavily it goes with him ; how dull 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 435 

to him is the luster of the new-begotten court : how the breath- 
less, crowding, hurrying, feigning, and suing, "doth not well 
for a cripple;" and how earnestly he wishes that he waited 
still in the presence-chamber of his great dead mistress. Yet 
had he no lack of attention to complain of. He was the first 
peer created by James. At Theobalds he received the barony 
of Essenden, was made Viscount Cranbourn a few months 
later, and in the following year received the earldom of Salis- 
bury. He was too capable a man to be one of James's favor- 
ites, but too useful to incur his hatred or disregard ; and the 
position he assumed at the first council at Theobalds, he held 
till death. From that council James had but one rebuff. He 
asked them to send the crown jewels to his queen, that she 
might make proper regal display on entering London ; but 
Cecil answered firmly that the regalia of England should not 
have the kingdom for a day. 

Anne was now on her journey. She left Edinburgh on the 
2nd of June with her two elder children ; Charles being still 
so sickly that he could not travel. Many incidents show that 
she was still in no temper of agreement with her husband ; 
and his failing to meet her at York, as originally settled, ir, 
supposed to have been connected with these differences. The 
aldermen of York, however, did their best to supply a wel- 
come of all needful splendor ; and at each stage in her prog- 
ress she was joined by English ladies of the highest rank, who 
hastened to do her suit and service. Thus her temper seems 
to have softened by the way; and Lady Anne Clifford (after- 
wards so famous as Countess Dorset, Pembroke and Mont- 
gomery) gives favorable account of her majesty on seeing her 
at Sir Thomas Griffin's seat, though she makes sad complaint 
of the fleas which she says the Scotch ladies had brought up 
with them. At Sir Robert Spencer's seat of Althorpe a mid- 
summer masque was acted in her honor for which the serv- 
ices of Ben Jonson had been engaged. This great poet ad- 
dressed her as Oriana (oriens Anna), and hailed her as high- 
est, happiest queen ; but the highest, happiest inspiration of 
his genius had certainly not responded to this first sudden call 
of the subject. The king joined her at the next stage of her 
progress ; and the festivities at Grafton, Lord Cumberland's 
seat ; at Salden House, the seat of Sir John Fortescue ; at 
Aylesbury, the residence of Sir John Packington ; and at Great 
Hampden, where Sir Alexander Hampden lived, were redoub- 



436 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

led. Lady Anne Clifford takes occasion to remark that at 
these various entertainments the queen "showed noe favoure 
to the elderly ladies ;" but she adds, that "she giveth great 
contentment to the world in her fashion and courteous be- 
havior to the people." 

At length Windsor was reached (the plague at this time 
raging in London), and grand festivities were held there early 
in July. The commencement of disputes in the court, and of 
those national jealousies which were one of the scandals of 
the reign, is to be noted at the same time. Two noblemen 
gave each other the lie in the presence of the queen, who, 
nevertheless, failed to obtain notice of the affront till she 
had made angry appeal in writing to the king. The coronation 
took place at Westminster on the 17th of July. The ceremony 
was made as brief as possible, for eleven hundred people had 
perished that week of the plague. But one of the court news- 
men of the day informs us that "Queen Anne went to corona- 
tion with her seemly hair down-hanging on her princely shoul- 
ders, and on her head a crownet of gold. She so mildly saluted 
her new subjects, that the women, weeping, cried out with 
one voice, 'God bless. the royal queen!'' The royal queen 
was straightway blessed with an absurdly extravagant dower 
and household ; fixed upon Somerset House, the name of which 
was changed to Denmark House, for her private residence ; 
and began the court and state of queen consort of England. 
That she began with a disposition to make her court the 
headquarters of intrigue, would seem to be unquestionable. 
The famous Sully, charged with a special commission from 
Henry Quatre, soon reported to his master that James had 
no control over his queen ; that, with a stronger mind than his, 
she did. not care to conceal her contempt; and that she was 
available to cultivate dissension. The despatches of M. de 
Beaumont were not less explicit. "It is said," writes the 
French ambassador to his court, "that Cecil is doubtful as 
to his position ; finding the king partly better informed, partly 
more obstinate, than he thought. Cobham calls Cecil no bet- 
ter than a traitor. Raleigh is hated throughout the kingdom. 
The new queen is enterprising, and affairs are embroiled." 
If M. de Beaumont had known Cecil better, he would not 
have thought the Avorse of his prospects because affairs were 
embroiled. It is from the nettle danger that such men pluck 
the flower safety. Cecil knew that when Elizabeth should 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 437 

have ceased to breathe, England would be too small for him- 
self and Raleigh to contend for power within it ; and there is 
reason to believe that, among the first words he spoke to 
James, were those which deprived that formidable rival, al- 
ready out of favor with the people for his conduct at Essex, 
of his captaincy of the guards, and wardenship of the Stan- 
neries. He precipitated him into rebellion. Within a few 
weeks after Beaumont wrote, Raleigh, Cobham, and the lead- 
ing men of their party were seized upon a charge of treason. 
Nor, having made the charge, could Cecil afford that the ac- 
cused should escape. The scruples of our day were unknown 
in theirs ; and a statesman of the sixteenth century prepared 
to drive his rival to the scaffold, as a statesman of the nine- 
teenth hopes to drive his out of Downing-street. 

The unscrupulous brutality of Coke was employed against 
Raleigh (in the "Taunt him with the license of ink," of Sir 
Toby Belch to Sir Andrew Ague-Cheek, "if thou thou'st him 
some thrice, it shall not be amiss ;" it is pleasant to note Shakes- 
peare's sympathy for the gallantest and most illustrious of 
contemporary Englishmen) ; and though he_def ended himself 
with a temper, wit, learning, courage, and judgment, which 
all men pronounced incomparable a verdict was obtained. He 
went into court on the day of his trial, as M. de Beaumont 
rightly describes him, the most unpopular man in England ; 
he left the court the most popular of Englishmen, but he left 
it a convicted traitor. Those who would have gone a hundred 
miles to see him hanged in the morning, would have gone so 
far to save his life before they parted in the evening ; but 
Cecil could not narrow the field of his displays, and put a 
distance between him and his adherents that no zeal could 
overlap. The gates of the Tower were opened to receive the 
greatest man of action which that age had produced, and 
never again beheld its outward walls for more than thirteen 
years. "There is nobody but my father," exclaimed Prince 
Henry, "who could keep such a noble bird shut up in a cage." 
Cecil knew he could rely upon his gaoler. When he escaped 
at last, it was when Cecil's death, and the king's debts, had 
left anything attainable by corruption. He was liberated on 
payment of a bribe to two courtiers of some two thousand 
pounds; he received the king's commission for an expedition 
to Guiana on promise that its results should load the king's 
coffers with gold ; and on failure of the expedition, and be- 



438 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

cause Spain clamored for the death of this bravest and most 
renowned of her enemies, he was murdered without trial by 
means of his sentence of fifteen years preceding', as if the 
king's commission could have run to a man dead in law ! 

Meanwhile the eventful incidents which led to his imprison- 
ment had not passed without their lesson to the queen. It 
may be remembered to her honor that she never ceased to feel 
a sympathy for Raleigh, the chivalrous wonder of whose life 
would seem to have seized her fancy ; but she could not behold 
him thus suddenly rendered powerless without an awe-struck 
sense of the power of his adversary. There is no ground 
for supposing, that, beyond the distaste she still never hesi- 
tated to make unscrupulously manifest against her husband, 
she took any active part throughout his English reign in coun- 
terplotting against his ministers. M. de Beaumont, after a 
little more experience, and when she had piqued him by her 
too obvious preferences of the Spanish ambassador, reported 
her to his court as proud, vain, obstinate, turbulent, incapable 
of governing or being governed, yet ambitious of power. The 
Cardinal Bentivoglio, on the other hand, though not in all 
respects complimentary, speaks with warmth "of her pleasing 
and inoffensive qualities, her grace, good nature, and accomp- 
lishments ; while Arthur Wilson says that she was not a busy- 
body, or an embroiler of other people's business ; and one of 
the court newsmen writes to Winwood, that, though her wishes 
are with the Spaniard, better news is, that she carrieth no 
sway in state matters, and "praetcr rem uxioriam hath no great 
reach in other affairs." The truth, which doubtless lurks 
somewhere amid these varying statements, was probably ap- 
proached most nearly by Molino ; who wrote that she had an 
ordinary appearance, and lived remote from public affairs ; 
that she was very fond of dancing and entertainments ; that 
she was very gracious to those who knew how to promote 
her wishes, but to those whom she did not like was proud, 
disdainful, not to say insupportable. That she was neither 
proud nor disdainful to Cecil, deformed dwarf as he was, 
there is now no lack of evidence, even to the period of his 
death. James himself often refers in his coarse, vulgar way 
to his wife's good understanding with the "great little proud 
man." For be it added that Cecil, besides his other suc- 
cesses, had a reputation for bonnes fortunes. Lady Anne Clif- 
ford naively describes the ladies of doubtful, character, the 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 439 

Suffolks and Walsinghams, who were "the great favourites of 
Sir Robert ;" and Francis Bacon, who published his essay on 
Deformity some month or two after the deformed statesman's 
death, seems to have penetrated that as well as every other 
mystery. "Whosoever," says the Chancellor of Mankind, 
"hath anything fixed in his person that doth induce contempt, 
hath also a perpetual spur in himself to rescue and deliver him- 
self from scorn ; therefore all deformed persons are extremely 
bold." It is to this extreme boldness James often coarsely 
refers in his letters to his "little beagle" (so he had nicknamed 
Cecil for his sure scent, his keen pursuit, his faithful ser- 
vice), "Ye and your fellows there are so proud," would run 
the dignified monarch's epistle, "now ye have gotten again 
the guiding of a feminine court in the auld fashion, as I know 
not how to deal with you" . ' . . It is with some similar covert 
allusion that Arabella Stuart protests in one of her letters 
that she will not tell tales out of the queen's coach, but in 
another letter the same lady (who, though in the same rela- 
tion as James to the throne, and put forth as its claimant by 
Raleigh and his party, had not yet become the victim of the 
king's despicable cruelty), reports favorably of the queen as 
contrasted with the rest of the court,' on the occasion of its 
sojourn at Woodstock. "If ever," she writes, "there was such 
a virtue as courtesy at the court, I marvel what is become of 
it, for I protest I see little or none of it but in the queen ; who, 
ever since her coming to Newbury, hath spoken to the people 
as she passeth, and receiveth their prayers with thanks and 
thankful countenance, barefaced (that is, without a mask), to 
the great contentment of native and foreign people." Ladies 
protected their faces in those days with masques, when riding. 
It had been one of the popular habits of Elizabeth to lift her 
mask to the common people, as she rode along ; and here Anne 
shrewdly copied her. 

Unhappily for Anne's name in history, however, this favor- 
able contrast between herself and the court cannot be said to 
have continued. She became identified, as years passed on, 
with its worst extravagance and ' excess. David Hume re- 
marks, with melancholy truth, that the history of James' 
reign is the history of the court, not the nation ; and this 
court, with king and queen at its head became a scene in 
which all the actors were without exception odious, profligate, 
or, in some sense or other, despicable. Its likings were those 



44Q THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

of Comus and his beastly crew ; and such genius as it employed 
in its service, it degraded almost to its own level. To be a 
courtier of the highest mark was to indulge all gross propen- 
sities with hardly a cover to their nakedness. Elizabeth's 
circle had been far from the exactest model of decency ; but 
there was strength of understanding in the queen and it acted 
with constraint on the vices of those around her, as it served 
to veil her own. When a vulgar Satyr became chief of the 
revels, and when such noble poets as Beaumont and Fletcher 
condescended to make themselves echoes to the revelers, 
this check, of course passed wholly away. Everything was 
in foul excess and the most frightful corruption to satisfy it 
became a thing of course. Women and men were engaged 
alike. Lady Glenham took a bribe of a hundred pounds to 
induce her father to transact some dishonorable service. Ara- 
bella Stuart herself, who had intrigued for the promise of a 
peerage for one of her uncles Cavendish, would not, when the 
time came for claiming it, open her mouth "so wide as a bristle 
might enter," because he had omitted mention of any gratuity 
"which might move her to spend her breath for him." Eliza- 
beth had long disused, had even prohibited, the brutal sports 
of the cockpit ; James revived them, and took delight in them, 
at least twice every week. The fee of the chief huntsman has 
not been preserved ; but the fee of the master of the cocks 
was equal to the united salaries of two secretaries of states. 
"Our sovereign," wrote Cecil to Lord Shrewsbury, within a 
year after the accession "spent a hundred thousand pounds 
yearly in his house, which was wont to be but thirty thousand. 
Now think what the country feels, and so much for that." In 
the seventh year of his reign that surplus of expense above 
revenue continued, and his debts were half a million. His 
necessities became flagrant and shameful. His treasurer 
Buckhurst was stopped in the street for wages due to his 
servants, and the purveyors stopped the supply to his table. 
It would have been hard to say which was the most degrading, 
the extremity of .the want or of the means adopted to supply 
it. Impositions by prerogative were resisted, in the teeth of 
scandalous decisions by the lawyers, till every member of the 
house of commons was counted "viper" or "traitor." Fees 
were got from knighthood till nobody would be knighted ; and 
Bacon, at even his wit's end, suggested "knighthood with some 
new difference and precedence." Hereupon baronetcies were 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 441 

invented, were oii'erd for a thousand pounds each to any who 
thought fit to be purchasers, and made the king richer by 
some hundred thousand pounds. The peerage was not less 
openly put up to sale. A man became a baron for five thou- 
sand pounds, a viscount for ten, and for twenty might obtain 
an earldom. The court, meanwhile, never thought of releasing 
itself by abating its monstrous extravagance ; and while mo- 
nopolies, increasing on all sides, and exorbitant Star-chamber 
fines, swelled the popular discontent, the court did not scruple 
to turn even its commonest amusement to the exasperation and 
oppression of the people. 

The chase, for example, had become well-nigh an innocent 
pastime, but James made it hateful again; hateful as it was 
under the Norman kings, as well as contemptible, which 
then it was not. "I shall leave him dressed for pos- 
terity," says Osborne, "in the colors I saw him in, the 
next progress after his inauguration ; which was as 
green as the grass he trod on, with a feather in his cap, and 
a horn instead of a sword by his side ; how suitable to his age, 
calling, or person, I leave others to judge from his pictures." 
But upon the whole it was no laughing matter. Among the 
state papers of this time are found very remarkable corre- 
spondences in proof of the intolerable grievance it became. 
It will be enough to mention here the elaborate protest for- 
warded by Cecil to Matthew Hutton, Archbishop of York, in 
which the venerable prelate, as one that honoreth and loveth 
his most excellent majesty with all his heart, petitions earnestly 
for less wastening of the treasure of the realm, and more mod- 
eration in the lawful exercise of hunting, both that poor men's 
corn may be less spoiled, and other his majesty's subjects 
more spared ; and to which Cecil makes answer, not by deny- 
ing, but by excusing the royal prodigality on the ground of 
the necessity for a liberal expenditure at the beginning of. a 
reign, and by defending hunting as a manlike and active 
recreation, such as those to which the good emperor Trajan 
was disposed. The courtly minister should have called the 
sport womanlike as well, the queen following it as eagerly as 
her husband. She is the "queen and huntress, chaste as fair," 
of Ben Jonson's celebrated lines. She handled the cross-bow, 
too ; and was in the habit of shooting with it at the deer, from 
a stand. But not with remarkable success. She mistook the 
king's favorite dog for the deer on one occasion, and disabled 



442 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

him forever. Hawking was another of her favorite amuse- 
ments ; nor can it be reckoned much to her honor that she 
took prominent part in these sports as carried on by the court 
crew that surrounded her, when, according to the most honor- 
able witness, "the manners were such as made me devise the 
beasts were pursuing the sober creation, and not man in quest 
of exercise and food." 

After the hunting came the feasting, and here the historian's 
task is less easily discharged. He is under the reserves of 
modern usage and manners, and can touch the theme but 
slightly. There is some indication of the habits of the court 
in the arrangements for the reception of the queen's younger 
brother, the Danish Duke of Hoist, an awkward youth whom 
Arabella Stuart laughs at as "the Dutchkin," and who had 
twenty dishes of meat allowed him every meal. But the Dan- 
ish king's visit two years later gives us clearer insight into 
the court entertainment and fashionable feasting of the day. 
He stayed a month ; during which time, says a contemporary 
writer, "the court, city, and some parts of the country, with 
banquetings, masques, dancings, tiltings, barriers and other 
gallantry besides the manly sports of wrestling, and the brutish 
sports of baiting with beasts, swelled to such greatness, as if 
there were an intention in each particular man this way to 
have blown up himself." The allusion is to the great plot 
then recently exploded, by which Guido Faux and his friends 
would have blown "the Scotch beggars back to their native 
mountains ;" and the same allusion is similarly made by an- 
other not less trustworthy writer. "The gunpowder fright is 
got out of all our heads, and we are going on, hereabouts, as 
if the devil was contriving every man should blow up himself, 
by wild riot, excess, and devastation of time and temperance." 
It is perhaps fortunate that the more particular account which 
has transpired of these banquetings, masques, and dancings, 
riots, and excesses, should be by an eye-witness so faithful 
and honorable, so incapable of exaggeration or falsehood, as 
Sir John Harrington ; for it would not otherwise be credible. 
He was an invited guest at Theobalds when Cecil entertained 
two kings there, and tells his friend Mr. Secretary Barlow 
that English nobleman whom he had never seen before even 
taste good liquor, he now saw follow the fashion, and wallow in 
beastly delights. They had women, he adds, and wine of such 
plenty as would have astonished each sober beholder; and 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 443 

while the two royal guests were lovingly embracing each other 
at table, he saw the ladies abandon their sobriety, and roll 
about in intoxication. Cecil had himself invented a masque 
for the occasion, in which, for a compliment to the modern 
Solomon, the queen of Sheba was the principal personage; 
and the other actors were Faith, Hope, Charity, Victory, and 
Peace. But alas ! the lady who personated her majesty of 
Sheba tumbled helplessly at the feet, or rather in the face, of 
the majesty of Denmark, who thereupon got up and would 
have danced with Sheba, "but he fell down and humbled him- 
self before her, and was carried to an inner chamber, and laid 
on a bed of state, which was not a little defiled with the pres- 
ents of the queen which had been bestowed on his garments." 
Nor did it fare better with the other actresses. Hope tried to 
speak, but had drunk too much ; and withdrew, "hoping the 
king would excuse her brevity." Faith left the court in a no 
less staggering condition ; and when Charity, unable to cover 
the sins of her sisters, was obliged to follow, she found them, 
in the condition and action of sea-voyagers unused to the sea, 
in the lower hall. Victory herself triumphed as little, being, 
after much lamentable utterance, ''led away like a silly cap- 
tive," and laid to sleep on the outer steps of the ante-chamber; 
while Peace, not so helpless in her cups as she was violently 
quarrelsome, most rudely made war with her olive-branch "on 
the pates of those who did oppose her." So ended the ever- 
memorable masque invented by Cecil for delectation of the 
two delicate kings. 

But were all the masques of the reign like that? Do not 
we owe to other and more tasteful exhibitions some of the 
most excellent products of Ben Jonson's genius? The fact 
may be true, and the taste continue more than doubtful. With- 
out attempting to depreciate an entertainment which has given 
us the Comus of Milton, it is certain that these shows were as 
tasteless as they were extravagant ; and it is no less certain 
that, in an age remarkable for the grandest gathering of poetic 
genius that the universe has witnessed, Mr. Campion was a 
more popular masquer than Ben Jonson. In short, one really 
cannot discover any higher court object in these celebrated 
masques than that of personal and not very decent display ; 
or feel that Jonson's participation in them was other than 
the merest accident. Cardinal Bentivoglio seems to hit the 
point of the matter when he thus writes of the queen, for the 



444 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

information of the Roman court: "She delights beyond meas- 
ure in admiration and praises of her beauty, in which she has 
the vanity to think that she has no equal. Hence she makes 
public exhibitions of herself in a thousand ways, and with a 
thousand different inventions ; and sometimes to so great an 
excess that it has been doubted which went furthest, the king 
in the ostentation of his learning, or the queen in the display 
of her beauty." This is confirmed by a curious anecdote re- 
lated by Osborne ; who says he himself saw James one evening 
parting from the queen, and taking his leave at her coach 
side, "by kissing her sufficiently to the middle of the shoulders ; 
for so low she went bare," he adds, "all the days I had the 
fortune to know her ; having a skin far more amiable than the 
features it covered, though not the disposition, in which re- 
port rendered her very debonair." Other equally good wit- 
nesses confirm Bcntivoglio's account. "Her great passion is 
for balls and public entertainments, which she herself arranges, 
and which serve as a public theater on which to display her 
grace and beauty." For this she acted goddesses, negresses, 
and nereids, and displayed herself as the Indian princess or the 
Turkish sultana. 

Thus she had arranged that pageant in Jonson's fine Masque 
of Queens, wherein twelve ladies were exhibited sitting on 
a throne in the form of a pyramid, eleven of whom represented 
the highest and most heroical of queens that had ever existed, 
and the twelfth was Anne, in propria persona, to whom the 
poor needy poet gives the name of Belanna, and who is unan- 
imously chosen by the other queens to form the apex of their 
pyramid, as possessing in her single person all the virtues 
wherewith it had been the glory of each to be separately 
adorned ! At the suggestion of her peculiar taste, too, Jonson 
introduced into his Masque of Blackness twelve Ethiopian 
nymphs, daughters of the Niger, who had come all the way 
to Britain (as the country now begins to be called) in search 
of a wash to whiten their complexions, and who had nothing 
to do but show their blackened negress-faces, and dance. Sir 
Dudley Carleton received an invitation to the latter masque, 
and one or two facts from his account of it may show us what 
the thing generally was. This exhibition took place in the 
Banqueting-house at Whitehall ; and the first thing you saw 
on entering the room was a great engine at the lower end 
which had motion, and in which were the images of sea-horses, 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 445 

with other terrible fishes, that were ridden by Moors. The 
indecorum was, adds Sir Dudley, that there was all fish and 
no water. But now you saw near these harmless dragons a 
great shell in the form of a scallop, wherein were four benches ; 
cm the lowest of which sat the queen with my Lady Bedford, 
while on the rest were placed the Ladies Suffolk, Derby, Rich, 
Effingham, Anne Herbert, Susan Herbert, Elizabeth Howard, 
Walsingham and Bevil. "Their appearance was rich," says 
Sir Dudley "but too light and courtesanlike for such great 
ones. Instead of vizards their faces and arms up to the elbows 
were painted black." This specimen will be enough; though 
the close of Sir Dudley's letter, and of the monstrous exhibi- 
tion it describes, ought not to be omitted. "The night's work 
was concluded with a banquet in the great chamber, which was 
so furiously assaulted, that down went the tables and tressels 
before one bit was touched." Another letter writer of the 
time enables us to complete this picture of lumbering and ill- 
arranged profuseness, of tasteless yet almost barbaric extrava- 
gance. "The show is put off till Sunday, by reason all things 
are not ready. Whatever the device may be, and what success 
they may have in their dancing, yet you should have been sure 
to have seen great riches in jewels, when one lady and that 
under a baroness, is said to be furnished for better than a 
hundred thousand pounds ; and the Lady Arabella goes be- 
yond her ; and the queen must not come behind." 

But what, meanwhile, was the opinion of their ruler be- 
coming prevalent among the English people? An intelligent 
foreigner will describe it for us. "Consider, for pity's sake," 
says M. de Beaumont, in one of his despatches, "what must 
be the state and condition of a prince, whom the preachers 
publicly from the pulpit assail ; whom the comedians of the 
metropolis covertly bring upon the stage ; whose wife attends 
these representations in order to enjoy the laugh against her 
husband ; whom the parliament braves and despises ; and who 
is universally hated by the whole people?" The Frenchman's 
great master, Henri, shortly before he fell by the hand of an 
assassin, had spoken of the effects of such contempt when di- 
rected against the person of a sovereign, as marvelous and 
horrible ; and in this case also they proved so, though in an- 
other generation than his who had made himself so thoroughly 
despicable. "Audacious language," pursues M. de Beaumont, 
"offensive pictures, calumnious pamphlets, these evil forerun- 



446 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

ners of civil war are common here and are symptoms doubly 
strong of the bitter temper of men's minds ; because in this 
country men are in general better regulated, or by the good 
administration of justice are more kept within the sphere 
of their duties." Be it in justice added, that the assertion in 
the same despatches that the queen had been using all her 
efforts to corrupt the mind of the prince, by flattering his pas- 
sions and diverting him from his studies and exercises, out 
of contempt to his father, does not appear to be well founded. 
An heir-apparent, in truth, wants no such teaching. From the 
experience of all history, we may call it his normal state to be 
in full opposition to the sovereign. The extravagant reckless- 
ness of James, who, before the prince was twelve years old, 
had surrounded him with an establishment more than sufficient 
for a sovereign, gave in this instance more effect to the hostil- 
ity ; but in itself it was only natural. As James' cowardly in- 
stincts were all for peace, Henry's flushed forth into passionate 
eagerness for war. As James lived upon the site of Carr, 
Henry hated him so bitterly that the favorite was charged, 
and upon no mean evidence, with the prince's premature death. 
As James imprisoned Raleigh, and laughed at his pursuits, 
Henry visited him in his prison, proclaimed everywhere sym- 
pathy and admiration for him, got him to write upon subjects 
in which he was interested and carried him materials for his 
History of the World. "What !" was James' frequent com- 
ment on this willful independence of his heir, "will he bury 
me alive?" That, apart from his position induced, however, 
the prince had also worthy dispositions all authorities seem 
to agree ; and without doubting that the popular regret for his 
death was hyperbolical, and found vent in the bewailing of ex- 
pectations that would never have been realized, it is as little 
possible to question that mere ordinary accomplishments, how- 
ever high the rank that recommended them, could not have 
moved so general and so sincere a sorrow. Raleigh wept for 
him as his only friend ; Drayton and Sylvester, whom he had 
pensioned had good reason to mourn for him ; Browne, Donne, 
and Ben Jonson made pathetic tributes to his virtues ; Hey- 
wood and Webster offered earnest elegies ; and old Chapman 
bewails in the prince his "most dear and heroical patron." 
The only disrespect to his memory was evinced by his father. 
"His majesty," says the prince's chamberlain, "being unwilling 
and unable to stav so near the gates of sorrow, removed to 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 447 

Theobalds to wait there the event." In other words, he never 
visited his son on his death-bed. Nor was this all ; he forbade 
the wearing of court-mourning; and had the indecency, within 
three days after the death, to direct Sir Thomas Edmondes, 
at Paris, to continue to negotiate poor Henry's marriage- 
treaty, only substituting the name of Charles. It requires 
great charity to believe that James disapproved of the crime 
imputed to Somerset, even though himself no party to it. 

The queen, on the other hand, is 'said to have shed bitter 
tears ; but to have found relief in the preparations and mas- 
quings that soon after began, for celebrating the marriage of 
her daughter with the Count Palatine of Bohemia. Elizabeth 
and Charles were now her only children. Two daughters had 
been born to her since her arrival in England (on the 7th April, 
1605, and the 22nd June 1606) ; but both, after being christ- 
ened, respectively, Mary and Sophia, had died in infancy. 
With this exception, and a suspected but very innocent flirta- 
tion with the young Lord Herbert of Cherbury, her life pre- 
sents few things more that are noticeable. Its general tenor of 
business and entertainment has been very fully presented to the 
reader. To offer more details would be to run the same circle 
of court occupation, conversation, and amusement. She had 
an illness soon after her daughter's marriage in 161 3, and 
went to the waters at Bath. But she is next and speedily heard 
of, assisting at one of Campion's masques at Caversham, the 
seat of Lord Knollys ; "vouchsafing to make herself the head 
of the revels and graciously adorning the place with her per- 
sonal dancing." Perhaps the only festivity in her reign that 
she would not as willingly and graciously have adorned was 
the septuagenarian old Howard of Effingham's marriage with 
his young wife of nineteen. She had a spite against the lady ; 
and, in a letter which is no bad specimen of her liveliness, 
laughed at the king for his meddling to bring about such a 
wedding. . "I humbly desire your majesty to tell me how I 
should keep this secret, that have already told it, and shall tell 
it to as many as I speak with. If I were a poet I would make 
a song of it, and sing it to the tune of Three fools well met." 

Rarely were the latter years of her life, however, ruffled by 
even such differences as these with her husband. The new 
favorite himself she would seem to have tolerated, and lived 
on kindly terms with. Archbishop Abbott tells us, indeed, 
that it was she who had introduced Villiers to James, though 



448 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

reluctantly, and at the king's suggestion ; obeying, in short, a 
new stroke of royal cunning. "He would not now," says the 
archbishop, "admit any to nearness about himself, but such 
a one as the queen should commend to him, and make some 
suit in that behalf ; in order that, if the queen afterwards, being 
ill-entreated, should complain of this dear one, he might make 
his answer, 'It is come of yourself, for you were the party 
that commended him unto me.' " Be this as it may, no violent 
dissensions seems in this case to have come between man and 
wife and the dear one. They are a very happy family party, 
and call each other names that betoken a delightful unmis- 
giving familiarity. Villiers soared far beyond Somerset in 
corrupt rapacity as well as in grasping ambition ; but the queen 
esteemed him her "watchful dog," her "kind dog," her "faithful 
dog," who is watchful and alert to prevent the "sow" trans- 
gressing, the sow being the king; and when, in obedience to 
her desire, he has "pulled the king's ear till it was long as any 
sow's," his majesty being at the same time informed that his 
dog has been commanded to make his ears hang like a sow's 
lug, she thanks him for "lugging the sow's eare," and tells him 
she will "treat him better than any other dog." The king 
himself calls Villiers, now Marquis of Buckingham, not only 
his dog, but his dog Steenie ; because he says his face is only 
to be compared to that of a saint with a glory around it, and 
there is exactly such a painted face of Saint Stephen at White- 
hall. He wears Steenie's picture under his waistcoat, near his 
heart ; Steenie's white teeth, he says, continually shine upon 
him ; and to Steenie he not unusually commences his letters, 
"Blessing, blessing, blessing on thy heart's roots !" 

But here the curtain falls on scenes and actors which have 
already perhaps detained the reader too long. The queen 
wrote the last letter preserved of her correspondence in Octo- 
ber, 1618. It was addressed to the Marquis of Buckingham. 
"My kind dog," it ran, "if I have any power or credit with 
you, I pray you let me have a trial of it at this time, in dealing 
sincerely and earnestly with the king, that Sir Walter Raleigh's 
life may not be called in question. If you do it, so that the 
success answer my expectation, assure yourself that I will take 
it extraordinarily kindly at your hands." We are not sorry 
thus to part from Anne of Denmark, though her well-meant 
intercession failed, alike with Buckingham and his master. 
Within a month after Raleigh's death, at the close of 1618, she 
was struck with the illness that proved fatal to her; and on 



ANNE OF DENMARK. 



449 



the second of the following March, she died at Hampton Court 
of dropsy, in the forty-third year of her age. 

Her death was lamented as premature and sudden ; but it 
saved her from witnessing many family sorrows, which her 
memory might have embittered by connecting with many family 
sins.* 



*It is a singular fact that during this reign of extravagance, debauch- 
ery, and almost unbridled licentiousness, the weak and cowardly king 
should have authorized the translation of the Bible, and recommended 
that it be read in all churches. But it is not so astonishing that the 
influence of that reign should have caused the Pilgrim Fathers to take 
that Bible, and sailing from old Plymouth, 1620, seek a new land with 
freedom to worship God. 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE, 

QUEEN OE CHARLES THE FIRST. 

The fair and ill-fated consort of one of England's most 
unfortunate sovereigns is entitled, from the peculiar circum- 
stances in which she was placed, to the utmost lenity. Not 
sixteen when called upon, in the onerous position of queen, 
to sway the agitation of parties already influenced by violent 
prejudice against each other, she found religion employed as 
a subterfuge for republicanism, and herself, from the nature 
of her creed, regarded, upon her arrival in England, with a 
suspicious dislike, which incensed the bigotry she had perhaps 
otherwise never evinced. Her education, also, had been cal- 
culated to pervert the accuracy of her judgment. A beautiful 
and spoiled child, nursed amid court intrigue, descended from 
a king whose dazzling qualities threw a false luster over his 
many and inexcusable faults., she was early taught to view truth 
through a distorted medium ; so that, in the retrospect, it is 
conceivable that even the horror of her father's assassination, 
after escape from "fifty conspiracies." partoook less of tragic 
reality than of exciting romance. After his death, left under 
the influence of her haughty mother, she necessarily imbibed 
much of her bigotry and pride ; an effect maintained for some 
period after her marriage by continued correspondence with the 
French court, and the pernicious and interested counsels of 
priests and dependents. 

Henrietta Maria was born at the Louvre, November 25, 
1609, being the youngest child of Henri the Fourth of France 
and Marie de Medicis, his second wife. Her birth was her- 
alded by the king's concession to his consort's reiterated desire 
that her coronation should be celebrated without further delay ; 
Henri's previous reluctance to that ceremony having been 
excited by the jealousy of his artful mistress, the Marchioness 
de Vernenil, and by her employment of fortune-tellers to prog- 

450 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 451 

nosticate that he would not survive the coronation of the queen 
a single day. 

At length, after every representation, though urged for "three 
entire days" by Sully, in behalf of his beloved master's, mis- 
givings, had failed to induce the queen to forego her wishes, 
it was agreed that the enthronement should take place on the 
13th of the following May. 

In the dark consummation of the -fatal tragedy we cannot 
wonder that the previous and subsequent conduct of Marie 
should have caused her to be regarded as implicated ; for, besides 
ill terms subsisting between the royal pair, the queen is said 
to have been "ni assez surprise, ni assez affligee" at the intelli- 
gence. The Due d'Epernon, previously almost paralyzed by 
infirmity, at once manifested a revival of energy which enabled 
him to secure the regency to the politic widow of the murdered 
monarch ; in fact, it is too evident that every preparation had 
been made to remove those obstacles which an uncrowned 
queen, during the lifetime of her divorced predecessor (Mar- 
garet de Valois), might otherwise have experienced. 

The years of infancy even of illustrious personages, as being 
anterior to their future greatness, present little of interest in 
detail. Cardinal Maffeo Barberini, afterward Pope Urban the 
Eighth, named the princess after both her parents, and the 
two earliest occasions of her appearance in public were the 
contrasting and rapidly successive spectacles of her mother's 
coronation and her father's funeral. For some time the 
monotony of her life was unbroken, except by the festivities 
attendant upon the accession of her young brother, Louis the 
Thirteenth ; the companionship of Gaston, afterward Duke of 
Orleans ; and the nuptials of her two sisters, Elizabeth to 
Philip the Fourth of Spain, and Christine to Amadee Victorio 
the Tenth, Duke of Savoy. Her attachment to her mother, 
which was ardently returned, amounted to a species of idolatry, 
and she early evinced strong inclinations toward music and 
painting ; while a religious education, enthusiastically conducted 
by a Carmelite religieuse, rendered her faith in the tenets of 
her church strict and decided. Very early also did this little 
princess give promising tokens of that extreme fascination of 
manner and sweetness of disposition which, added to rare 
beauty, and a voice of the most thrilling melody, constantly 
elicited the admiration of her countrymen, before whom it was 
the policy of those in power to present her, in order to diminish 
their own unpopularity. Alternate fetes and civil feuds, involv- 



452 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

ing much personal vicissitude — by flight and participation of 
the queen-mother's imprisonment — formed, however, a most 
unfit discipline for her character. In fact, the records of the 
time are replete with the quarrels and reconciliations of Marie 
and the king h^r son, and the elevation and depression of the 
favorites of each. 

The first occasion on which Prince Charles beheld his future 
consort was during this romantic expedition, in 1623, to Madrid 
to obtain the hand of the Infanta ; the prince, after the example 
of his father and grandfather, and at the instigation of Buck- 
ingham, being desirous that an interview with his future bride 
should cement, by personal affection, that bond of political 
union which King James was eager to institute, both from the 
emergency of his own pecuniary distresses, and an opinion 
peculiar to himself, that "any alliance below that with France 
or Spain was unworthy a Prince of Wales." This .Quixotic 
expedition, besides Charles and the king's "humble slave and 
doge, Steenie," as Buckingham was styled, consisted of Sir 
Francis Cottington, Sir Richard Greharn, and Master Endymion 
Porter, and upon reaching Paris, the party, "by mere accident," 
as we are told by Sir Henry Wotton, obtained a first view of 
Henrietta, each errant knight "shadowed under a bushy 
peruke," and concealing his title by a plebeian name, though 
the two of greatest dignity among them attracted marked atten- 
tion by their superior grace and deportment. 

The Spanish match was soon broken off by the impetuous 
attempts of the clergy to proselytize Charles, the exasperation 
of Olivarez with Buckingham, and the refusal to include the 
restitution of the palatinate in the marriage portion of the 
Infanta — a circumstance which induced King James to exclaim, 
"that he would never marry his son with a portion of his only 
sister's tears"; and he hastily recalled the prince from Madrid, 
his paternal anxiety being painfully increased by the remark 
of Archie, his jester, who first offered to "change caps" with 
James for allowing the Prince of Wales to depart ; and upon 
the king's inquiring what he would say when he saw him 
come back again, replied, "Marry, I will take off the fool's 
cap, which I now put upon thy head for sending him thither, 
and put it upon the king of Spain's for letting him return." 
Anxious, however, for the fulfilment of his dearest wish, James, 
almost before the conclusion of the Spanish negotiation had 
been notified in England, privately dispatched Lord Kensing- 
ton to Paris, with offers for the hand of Henrietta, where, not- 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 453 

withstanding the threat of Olivarez, "that if the pope ever 
granted a dispensation for the match with France, the king 
of Spain would march to Rome with an army, and sack it," the 
ambassador and his message were well received by the queen. 
In fact, the princess herself appears to have been favorably 
impressed by the report of his "gallantry" during the incognito 
visit of the prince ; since she not. only intimated that "if he 
went to Spain for a wife, he might have had one nearer hand, 
and saved himself a great part of the labor" ; but we find her 
at the outset of the negotiation "perusing his picture a whole 
hour together," which she had ingeniously contrived to obtain 
from Lord Kensington, and testifying the greatest delight when 
the letter containing the proposal itself was submitted to her. 

The joy of Henrietta at the prospect of becoming Queen of 
England might, however, have been dampened had she looked 
back to the last alliance of the kind. This was no other than 
that of Margaret of Anjou, the queen of Henry the Sixth, 
whose misfortunes had so operated on the minds of French 
princesses, that though the English princes had made various 
offers, no marriage for two centuries had been ventured upon. 
Henrietta's was doomed to be still more disastrous. 

After much delay, caused by the reluctance of the pope to 
grant a dispensation for a union which he foresaw would be 
infelicitous, and by the death of James the First, thirty public 
and three private marriage articles were agreed upon, after 
the model of the Spanish contract. By the nineteenth of these 
articles, the education of the royal offspring, until their thir- 
teenth year, was strictly reserved to the queen. The ceremony 
took place "on a theater erected in front of Notre Dame," 
May 21, 1625, the Due de Chevreuse acting as the representa- 
tive of Charles, who had already dispatched Buckingham to 
conduct his bride to England. Her arrival there was, how- 
ever, delayed some little time, ostensibly by a sudden and severe 
indisposition of the queen-mother at Amiens — a procrastination 
which gave rise to various surmises. The pope, on the one 
hand, is represented to have enjoined a penance ; Buckingham, 
on the other, to have arranged an opportunity, of which it is 
certain he availed himself, for a farewell interview with Anne 
of Austria, the idol of his insane devotion at Paris. Charles, 
who had meanwhile waited at Dover, removed to Canterbury, 
whence, on Monday, June 24, he was hastily summoned to 
receive the queen, who had arrived late the evening before. 
"The king rode from Canterbury, and came to Dover after 



454 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

ten of the clock, and she then being at meat, he stayed in the 
presence till she had done, which she advertised of, made 
short work, rose, went unto him, kneeled down at his feet, 
took and kissed his hand. The king took her up in his arms, 
kissed her, and talking with her, cast down his eyes toward 
her feet (she seeming higher than report was, reaching to his 
shoulders), which she soon perceiving, discovered and showed 
him her shoes, saying to this effect, 'Sir, I stand upon mine 
own feet — I have no helps by art ; thus high I am, and am 
neither higher nor lower.' '' Again, we read from another let- 
ter of the same date, and from the same writer, "So soon as 
she heard he was come, she hasted down a pair of stairs to meet 
him, and, offering to kneel down and to kiss his hand, he 
wrapped her up in his arms, and kissed her with many kisses." 
The first words addressed to Charles by his young bride 
expressed a similar sentiment to that of her mother when intro- 
duced to Henry the Fourth, "Sire, je suis venue en ce pays 
de vostre majeste pour estre commandee de vous." She 
requested that "he would inform her of her faults of ignorance." 
The king replied, tenderly kissing away her tears, "that he 
would be no longer master of himself than while he was 
servant to her." There was much in the personal demeanor and 
character of Charles, as developed at this period, which was 
calculated not merely to reassure a timid girl, but to attract 
the lasting regards of an affectionate woman. He is said to 
have been "a prince of comely presence ; of a sweet, grave, 
but melancholy aspect ; his face was regular, handsome, and 
well-complexioned ; his body strong, healthy, and well-made, 
and though of a low stature, was capable to endure the greatest 
fatigue. He had a good taste of learning, and more than an 
ordinary skill in the liberal arts, especially painting, sculpture, 
architecture, and medals. He acquired the noblest collections 
of any prince in his time, and more than all the kings of Eng- 
land before him. He spoke several languages very well, and 
with a singular good grace, though now and then, when he was 
warm in discourse, he was inclinable to stammer. He writ a 
tolerable hand for a king ; but his sense was strong, and his 
style laconic." From Canterbury, where the marriage cere- 
mony was repeated, they proceeded to Gravesend, and thence 
to London ; and here, notwithstanding- the ravages of the 
plague, "whereof, in this year, not less than thirty-five thousand 
four hundred and seventeen persons died," and the revival 
of the stringent proclamation against building, of Queen Eliza- 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 455 

beth, every endeavor was made to grace her arrival. The 
vessels in the river gave her a volley of fifteen hundred shot ; 
and as she approached Whitehall, the fascination of her appear- 
ance and manners, added to fresh rumors of her kindly senti- 
ments toward Protestantism, every moment increased the popu- 
lar enthusiasm. 

Yet notwithstanding- this auspicious commencement, causes 
were soon originated of public dissatisfaction and conjugal 
disquiet. The first arose from the queen's absolute refusal to 
be even present at the coronation ; which, from some forget- 
f ulness or want of judgment upon the part of those in power, 
had been fixed for Candlemas Day, a season of high festival 
in the Romish calendar, sufficient to preclude a votary of that 
faith from attendance at a ceremonial of the reformed church, 
even had she been willing to receive the crown at the ministra- 
tion of priests whose authority she repudiated. This gave the 
death-blow to her popularity with the nation, which was aggra- 
vated by her subsequent refusal to join in the coronation of 
the king in Scotland. The queen's example encouraged her 
suite to give further umbrage to the English people, by 
"dancing," and appearing to mock the august procession, "as 
they viewed its progress from a window." Nor was the hori- 
zon of domestic life long unclouded. From the first period 
of her marriage, Henrietta had discovered that Buckingham, 
the intimate associate of the king, was a true friend to neither 
his sovereign nor herself ; and while he used her influence to 
forward his professions to her sister-in-law, his manner evinced 
so little of either courtesy or prudence, that, as she afterward 
confessed, "she began to be out of conceit with the king her 
husband ; and Buckingham heightened her disgust into aver- 
sion, by telling her frankly that, if he pleased, he could set 
them together by the ears. And, indeed, so he did to such a 
degree that she grew melancholy and longed to return to 
France." So completely, however, did the duke's influence 
with her husband prevail, that it was only through his inter- 
ference, and with a promise that he should accompany her, 
that she obtained permission to depart, though she was ulti- 
mately obliged to forego the voyage, in consequence of the 
queen-mother's refusal to admit the duke at the French court. 
To Charles himself his favorite adopted a behavior the freedom 
of which could not be excused even by intimacy. "I witnessed," 
writes Bassompierre himself, "an instance of great boldness, 
not to say impertinence, of the Duke of Buckingham, which was, 



456 THE QUEENS OE ENGLAND. 

when he saw us the most heated" (the marshal's mission being 
to demand explanations) "he ran up suddenly, and threw him- 
self between the king and me, saying, T am come to keep 
the peace between you two !' ' But the shrewd ambassador at 
once took off his hat, and thereby thwarted Buckingham's 
curiosity, thus changing an audience into a private conversa- 
tion, and reminding the duke of his want of respect in remaining 
covered before his sovereign. A disparity, also, in tastes, or 
rather dispositions, between the newly-married pair, became 
the fertile source of frequent dissension ; for while Henrietta's 
liveliness of temper rendered her the ready patroness of "pb.ys 
and pastorals," in which she herself, and her maids of honor, 
acted the several parts, a proceeding which Prynne severelv 
censured in his Histrio Mastix, on the other hand, Charles, 
immediately upon his accession, had reformed the court, and 
expelled "the fools, buffoons, and other familiars of James." 
These minor troubles, however, soon happily terminated in 
the removal of the queen's attendants, who, by artful intrigue, 
had so fomented connubial strife, as to cause Charles deeply 
to regret those conditions, which, once weakly conceded, he 
could not subsequently decline without compunction. For as 
their own behavior compelled the king to vitiate the contract 
in assuming a determined attitude of resistance toward his 
queen's domestics, the fatal result of the crooked policy 
which allowed such marriage articles exhibited itself in after 
years, on the accession to the throne of a progeny whose expul- 
sion was wrought out by the influence of the same tenets. 
The restoration of the mass at Whitehall roused all the religious 
opposition of the people. Charles' authority in his own palace 
was repudiated by the queen's suite, on the ground that he 
"had nothing to do with them, being a heretic," until after 
resisting several direct indications of the king's desire for 
their departure, they were at length forcibly removed from the 
queen's lodgings in a manner most undignified ; for "while 
the women howled and lamented, as if they had been going 
to execution, the yeom'en of the guard thrust them and all 
their countryfolkes out of the queen's lodgings, and locked the 
doors after them ; the queen, meantime, grewe very impatient, 
and brake the glass windows with her fiste." The king appears 
to have compounded for discourtesy by munificence ; for, not- 
withstanding their short residence, and his disgust at their 
conduct, he liberally presented them "with eleven thousand 
pounds in money, and about twenty thousand pounds worth of 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 457 

jewels." The immediate effects of this expulsion were tem- 
porary : a deep despondency on the queen's part, notwithstand- 
ing the politic advice of her mother, "to accede in all things 
to her husband, except in religious points" ; and a declara- 
tion of war by France ; Buckingham, who was its chief insti- 
gator, being commissioned to conduct the latter, and the former 
evil alleviated in a measure by the embassy of Bassompierre. 
The official duties, and their issues, of these two noblemen, 
were as opposite as their conduct of -them. The duke managed 
the war "more with the gaieties of a courtier than the arts 
of a soldier," which accounts for its ill success ; but the marshal 
evinced no less integrity than perception in availing himself of 
the absence of Buckingham to bring the royal couple to a 
better understanding of each other's mutual disposition, so 
as to deduce from the king himself a confession as to the arch- 
plotter of domestic strife — "My wife and I were never upon 
better terms ; she showing herself so loving to me by her discre- 
tion on all occasions, that it makes us all wonder at and esteem 
her." Her experience of the malignant influence almost pre- 
cluded the possibility of Henrietta's sympathizing with the 
king in his regret at the duke's assassination ; which he bit- 
terly lamented, notwithstanding that by this event the greatest 
barrier to his married happiness was removed, and, from "that 
nobleman being the object of popular hate, it withdrew the 
chief obstruction of the subjects' love to their king." 

The advent of the future hope of England, in the birth 
of a Prince of Wales (the first child, Charles James, having 
scarcely survived a day), inspired but little popular joy; and 
as the nativity of the young prince was, in the few next years, 
followed by that of the Princess Mary, the Duke of York, after- 
ward James the Second, and the Princess Elizabeth, each addi- 
tion to the royal family was distrustfully regarded as of a less 
fitting, because less decidedly Protestant, claimant to the crown, 
than the offspring of the Queen of Bohemia. The birth of the 
Prince of Wales was, however, harbingered by a supernatural 
presage of no common glory, in the "appearance of a star at 
noon-day" ; which elicited "numerous poetical rhapsodies of 
wonder and admiration," equally sincere, though less precious, 
proofs of loyalty than the present of "ambergris, china basons, 
a clock, and four pictures by Tintoret and Titian," proffered to 
the queen on the birth of the Princess Elizabeth. 

Perhaps the period of the greatest happiness and splendor 
of Charles the First and Henrietta was about 1633. Their 



458 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

second son, James, was then born, and his birth was celebrated 
by a masque given by the gentlemen of Lincoln's Inn and the 
Temple to the king and queen. At this period the court was 
adorned by the presence of many celebrated men. Waller was 
producing his lyrics in its honor ; Vandyke was immortalizing 
not only the beauty of the queen, but the person of her hus- 
band, as well as of all the most distinguished of his courtiers. 
Inigo Jones was not only rearing public buildings, but devising 
masques and ballets for the royal pleasure ; and Ben Jonson 
and Beaumont and Fletcher were writing their great dramas. 
Yet already dark clouds lowered. The popular dislike to Hen- 
rietta's religion soon associated itself with every act and feeling 
of herself. Her mother, being driven from the friendly asylum 
of the French court by her son's unnatural malignity, "insomuch 
that Louis even plotted her destruction," the filial solicitude of 
Henrietta, who, in the extremity of the queen-mother's afflic- 
tion, affectionately invited her to England, and for two years 
entertained her with the distinction becoming her station even 
in the plenitude of power, though equally natural as praise- 
worthy, was vituperated and misrepresented by fanatical malice. 
But the daughter's early acquaintance with persecution her- 
alded the dawning greatness of the heroic wife; and as her 
husband's perils grew more imminent in the threatening storm 
of political anarchy, her promptitude and talent, stimulated 
to keenest exercise by conjugal affection, proved her no degen- 
erate descendant of the favorite monarch of France. Burnet, 
indeed, whose dislike is manifest, accuses her of "fondness for 
intrigues, and want of judgment," and affirms that "to her 
little practices, as well as to the king's own temper, the sequel 
of all his misfortunes was owing ;" but this is rebutted in part 
by the testimony of a political opponent, who speaks of her 
abhorrence of mischief as well known, and also by the impres- 
sion her sagacity invariably produced to the encouragement 
of her partisans, and to the fear of the parliamentary council. 
It is indeed to be lamented -that Henrietta's feelings, by a too 
common error of her sex, somewhat impaired her judgment, 
and at times frustrated the success of those plans so felicitously 
propounded, under adverse circumstances, by her zeal and 
energy. Accordingly we find her, in the year 1639, the mem- 
orable epoch of the king's inauspicious expedition to Scotland, 
raising no less than forty thousand pounds from the Roman 
Catholics of England in his behalf ; yet, shortly after the pacifi- 
cation, with singular imprudence, encouraging him in a meas- 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 459 

ure destructive of the whole previous benefit, which, if consum- 
mated, would forever have alienated that country from the 
royal interests, viz., the execution of the Earl of London. So 
obstinate is she represented to have been upon this occasion that 
it was not until the Marquis of Hamilton "took her up short," 
and "let her know she was a subject as well as himself," that 
she relaxed her pertinacious severity. Such instances, however, 
of violation, not more of the general sentiments of feminine 
sensibility than of her own natural- characteristic, only appear 
when her pride was injured by a want of respect to herself, or 
by some perilous sacrifice of safety or dignity involved 0x1 the 
part of her now fondly cherished consort. Her sorrow at the 
fate of the high-minded Strafford amply retrieved her character 
for humanity. She herself declared to Madame de Motteville 
that "she did all she could to save him ; not a day passed over 
her head but she closeted the most violent of the faction, induced 
Lord Danby, one of his greatest enemies, to defend him, and 
shed abundance of tears when the intelligence of his execution 
reached her;" the king and herself, as she expressed it, being 
both sensible that his death would some day or other rob the 
one of life and the other of rest. 

During the king's absence in Scotland, Henrietta took up her 
residence at Oatlands, whence, through the instrumentality of 
an officer on duty, the parliament endeavored to decoy the royal 
children into their own grasp, and had planned a nocturnal 
attack upon the house, the better to effect their design. The 
queen, however, was speedily informed by a loyal soldier of the 
plot, and arming her servants she "herself went to take the air 
in the park" during the anxious interval, which, elapsing with- 
out any hostile demonstration, she prevented their recurrence 
by removing to Hampton Court with her own guards ; and 
while the parliament, ashamed of detection, overwhelmed her 
with apologies, she employed the remainder of the king's 
absence in winning friends to his cause ; amongst others induc- 
ing "the Lord Mayor of London to renew his allegiance." Yet, 
with a strange contradiction of behavior, no sooner was 
Charles returned than she frustrated, by her hasty imprudence, 
a politic stratagem for his protection. The king, who had 
resolved on a bold attempt in the House of Commons to seize 
the five members who the day before had been impeached of 
high treason, confided his design to his queen, who, unable to 
restrain her exultation tilhthe whole was accomplished, revealed 
the plot to that "busy stateswoman, the Countess of Carlisle," 



460 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

as Sir Philip Warwick calls her, "who had changed her gallant 
from Strafford to Air. Pym, to whom it was discovered in time 
for him to effect his escape. Upon the failure of this attempt, 
although ruined by herself, the queen fell into a rage and called 
Charles 'poltronn,' yet he expressed no reproach; but, as, she 
feelingly allowed, made her do penance for her oversight by 
her own repentance." As popular fury grew more exasperated, 
it was resolved that the queen should quit Hampton for Dover, 
whither the king was to accompany her, in order to secure her 
safe and speedy transit to the States of Holland — her ostensible 
mission being to convey thither the princess royal, who had 
some time previously been betrothed to the Prince of Orange. 
With mournful tenderness at this, the first painful season of 
lengthened separation, Charles watched along the shore "for 
four leagues" the receding vessel, feeling that he now stood 
alone in a realm over which his authority, though nominally 
acknowledged, had no real and substantial sway from the loy- 
alty of attachment. 

With her usual self-command, however, the queen, notwith- 
standing the pressure of domestic grief, immediately upon her 
arrival in Holland, where her reception was most cordial, 
exhibited all those powers of diplomacy which her extraordi- 
nary fascinations so strongly seconded. Her chief object was 
to effect a loan upon the crown jewels, which she carried with 
her, and upon those belonging to herself ; but the tact with 
which she won over to her cause the burgomasters, who, inex- 
perienced in the rules of common courtesy, received her with- 
out any external mark of respect, appears little short of the 
marvelous. So efficiently did they co-operate with her that in 
little more than a year she raised two millions of pounds, and 
sailed from Scheveling for England with eleven transports, her 
fleet being conveyed by the famous Dutch admiral, Van Tromp. 
Upon this voyage she experienced all the horrors of death, and 
was obliged to put back, in the strangest condition of personal 
discomfort, to a little port near The Hague, whence, a fortnight 
after, she reached England, under so close a pursuit by the 
parliamentary vessels that their shot awoke her as she lay 
asleep in her bed the next morning. A remarkable anecdote is 
here told of her heroism : She had an ugly but favorite lap-dog. 
and upon her quitting the cottage during the hottest of the 
enemy's fire she suddenly remembered that her pet had been 
deserted ; without a moment's hesitation she returned, brought 
it awav from within reach of the cannon, and then went to con- 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 461 

ceal herself in the caves near the village. The whole country 
was "now rilled with gossip" respecting her courage and perils. 
Lord Newcastle, with a body of troops, conducted her to 
York — the Roman Catholics came from all quarters to enlist in 
her ranks — Batten's disloyalty was loudly censured, as having 
designedly pointed his cannon at Burlington at the very house 
in which she lodged — and the romantic enthusiasm which 
hailed her escape caused her escort soon to find himself at the 
head of a considerable force. The queen, eagerly taking advan- 
tage of their zeal, drew partisans over to the royal cause so 
universally that even Sir Hugh Cholmondley, the governor of 
Scarborough, who had already defeated the royalists, promised 
to deliver up the town, and Sir John Hotham was ready to open 
the gates of Hull, which he had rudely shut against the king. 
It must not be forgotten, too, that this display of mental energy 
followed closely upon a period of deep personal affliction. 
When in Holland, Henrietta had learned of the death of her 
mother in the midst of hardships and alone, the sorrowing 
daughter not having been permitted to console the last hours 
of her persecuted parent. It has been pathetically remarked 
that this princess, who had "brought a marriage portion of six 
hundred thousand crowns, and diamonds and jewels worth 
three millions more, who had. founded two hospitals and sev- 
eral charitable institutions, was dying in a foreign land in a 
state of indigence, though mother of the king of France and 
though three of her daughters had married kings." Charles 
had dreaded that her expulsion from the kingdom by his own 
subjects "would occasion a further alienation of the mind of 
his wife" from that religion "which," he writes, "is the only 
thing wherein we differ ;" yet again, upon her return, his ene- 
mies evinced but slight sincerity in the promise which they had 
given "that they would do all in their power to make her happy 
if she would continue in England ;" nor was it until when, upon 
her march to Oxford, the king met her at Edge Hill, that a 
gleam of transitory sunshine irradiated her path amidst the 
revelry of the then triumphant court, arid that hope — falla- 
cious ! — whispered a renewal of the happier years of her life. 
Short respite was allowed from care and peril. Upon the eve 
of the battle of Newbury it was clear that Oxford was no safe 
asylum, and Charles, anxious for the queen, whose health, 
impaired by vicissitude, excited his tenderest precaution, inso- 
much as to elicit the taunt of Sir Philip Warwick that "he was 
always more chary of her person than of his business," escorted 



462 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

his 1 eluctant wife to Abingdon. The bitterness of their parting, 
though deprived of its full intensity from the ignorance of 
either that it was to be, as it afterward proved, forever, yet was 
at the time augmented by the frail condition of her health, 
which appealed to every impulse of conjugal affection for sup- 
port, and by the contrast between the glory of her entrance into 
Oxford and the disheartening circumstances under which she 
now quitted those walls, which were amongst the very last to 
maintain the standard of royalty against rebellion. 

The king's distress at her hapless condition is forcibly 
expressed in his brief note written in French to her physician : 
"Mayerne ! for the love of me, go to my wife ! C. R." Arrived 
at Exeter, she found the citizens already preparing for a siege, 
and remitted a sum of money to the king, which she had 
received from Anne of Austria ; with characteristic self-denial 
scarcely retaining sufficient to supply her own wants ; and at the 
advance of Lord Essex at the head of the rebels, only a fort- 
night after the bi'rth of the Princess Henrietta (June 16, 1644), 
she applied to him for safe conduct to Bath, where she hoped 
to recruit her strength and obtain some repose for her shattered 
spirits. To her application the brutal answer was returned 
that "the earl intended to escort her to London, where the Par- 
liament were resolved to impeach her ;" a reply which elicited 
from the queen the touching sentiment expressed to the Duke 
of Hamilton, "God forgive them for their rebellion, as I assure 
you I forgive them from my heart what they do against me." 
Her reputation for courage was also enhanced by a display of 
fortitude upon this fearful occasion, which amazed her attend- 
ants. Rallying by one strong effort of the will her enervated 
powers, Henrietta rose to meet the emergency with all the 
undaunted resolution of that sire who had been indeed the first 
warrior of his age. In disguise, and almost fainting with pain 
and weakness, she escaped, with her confessor and two faith- 
ful adherents, to a hut on the road to Plymouth, leaving her 
infant behind to the protection of a few loyal followers, upon 
whose fidelity she could rely, and set sail from Pendennis only 
ten days before Charles arrived to raise the siege of Exeter. 
So closely was she pursued by the parliamentary cruisers that 
her captain set every sail, and being impeded by a shot from 
the enemy, was about, at the queen's command, to set fire to 
the magazine rather than allow his vessel to be taken, when 
he was rescued by a French fleet from Dieppe, under whose 
escort she reached Ghastel ; whence, on foot, ill, destitute and 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 463 

exhausted, the unhappy queen made her way "over the rocks" 
to the abode of some peasants; "all the strokes of fortune 
upon her magnanimous soul, like the breaking of the waves 
upon a rock of diamonds, unable to shake, but only washing it 
to a greater brightness." 

After remaining four months at the baths of Bourbon she 
came to Paris, where "the king and queen, with the Duke of 
Anjou, went out to receive her, with every testimony of ten 
der friendship;" and the Louvre, the place of her birth, with 
St. Germain for a country seat, was assigned to her as a 
residence, with a pension of twelve thousand crowns a month ; 
the last, according to more "than one authority, being contrib- 
uted by the French clergy. But affection could not obliterate 
the blight of care ; "at this time she was so much disfigured 
by illness and misfortune that she had scarce any marks of 
her beauty left, though the expression of her face had some- 
thing in it still so agreeable as charmed everybody that saw 
her." Her temper, naturally so gay, was now saddened by 
grief; yet "even when the tears trickled down her cheeks, if 
any one happened to pass a jest she suppressed them as well as 
she was able, to please the company ; while the gravity of woe 
rendered her more considerable than she would have been, 
perhaps, if she had never known sorrow." 

Devoted as ever to her husband's interests, her advice, if 
promptly followed after his successes in the west by a march 
upon London, would doubtless have changed the final aspect 
of the war, although his resistance to her injunction by Sir 
William Davenant that "he should part with the church for 
his peace and security" proved not only her want of unity 
with him in matters of faith, but her ignorance of that high 
tone of principle which induced the king's resolution to main- 
tain his oath inviolate, even at the hazard of his life. His 
precept to his son upon his blessing, "never to yield to any 
conditions that were dishonorable, or derogatory to legal au- 
thority, though it were for the saving of his (the king's) life," 
he illustrated by example, and was thus spared that "disquiet 
of mind" which is sharper than the axe of the executioner. 
Charles' idea of a persecuted church was that it did not 
thereby become less pure, though less fortunate ; but having 
no dependence upon Henrietta's counsels in these respects, we 
find him making an exception to his son in that total direction 



464 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

by the queen, which he recommended to his observance "in 
all other things." 

During her residence in Paris, besides effecting a treaty 
with Holland and France, she set on foot a negotiation of 
marriage between her son and the Princess of Orange and 
attached several malcontents to the king's party by receiving 
them at her court ; but so straightened were her resources by 
the king's demands that upon the arrival of the Prince of 
Wales, followed by that of his infant sister, Henrietta (who 
had been restored to her mother bv the courage of Lady Mor- 
ton), the queen's condition was /ery deplorable. Both the 
royal children had escaped with imminent peril — -the princess, 
disguised as a boy, was carried bv the countess to Dover and 
increased the hazard of detection by endeavoring, with child- 
like simplicity, to inform every one that "she was not a beggar 
boy, but a princess." Notwithstanding that the queen herself, 
with all the endurance of woman's fond idolatry, had been, to 
use her own words, "ready to die with famine rather than not 
send her husband the means of maintaining his rights, though 
she had already affliction enough to bear, which without his 
love she could not do, but his service surmounted all" — the last 
drop of anguish was even then distilling, and the horrid 
tragedy rapidly drew to a close. For some time no tidings 
had reached her from England, and when at length the ill- 
fated messenger arrived he bore the intelligence that the fac- 
tion of Scottish covenanters, in whom she had admonished the 
king never to confide, had basely sold their sovereign to the 
English parliament, which had resolved to bring him to a 
mock trial. Struck to the heart with amazement and con- 
fusion, she sent a paper to "the parliament, containing a very 
passionate lamentation of the sad condition the king, her hus- 
band, was in. desiring that they would grant her a pass to come 
over to him, offering to use all her credit with him to give them 
satisfaction ; and if this were denied she implored onlv per- 
mission to perform the duties she owed him, to be near him 
in the uttermost extremity. It will scarcely be believed that 
the ambassador. Paw, could not get leave to see the king ; and 
though the queen's paper was delivered to the parliament it 
was flung aside with the observation that the house had. in 
1643, voted his majesty guilty of high treason." 

Nothing can exceed the misery to which Henrietta was at 
this time reduced. Not onlv was she torn with the most terri- 








Queen of Charles 1* 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 465 

ble anxieties regarding the safety of her husband, but she was 
herself in the midst of the terrors of civil war and reduced to 
the most complete destitution. The war of the Fronde was 
raging in and around Paris, and on the~eventful 6th of Janu- 
ary, when the count escaped to St. Germain-en-Laye, and her 
sister-in-law, the queen regent, was thence attacking the city, 
Henrietta was also beleaguered in the Louvre by the Fronde 
faction and reduced to absolute faniine. There Cardinal Retz, 
the head of that faction, found her — her last loaf eaten, her 
last fagot consumed, and without money to purchase further 
fire or food. The snow was falling fast and her youngest 
child, four years old, was lying in bed as the only means of 
warmth. At that moment she was writing an agonized letter 
to the French ambassador in London, imploring him to obtain 
leave for -her to join her husband, as she had received the 
news that he was about to be brought to trial for his life. A. 
more absolute picture of human misery is not to be conceived. 
It was pecuniarily relieved by a grant from the parliament of 
Paris of 20,000 livres. 

Not many days after Charles' murder the unfortunate Hen- 
rietta was told a sham story, that the king had been carried 
from his prison to the scaffold with a design to cut off his 
head, but that the populace opposed it ; yet, notwithstanding 
this compassionate ruse, devised by Lord Jermyn, the shock 
was so great as to cause her to confess, afterward, her aston- 
ishment that she ever survived such a misfortune. Personal 
calamity she had endured even in the extreme of corporeal 
weakness ; she had been indeed steeped in poverty to the very 
lips, and, 

Like the Pontic monarch of old days, 
She fed on poisons ; 

but now her heart had lost its source of earthly happiness and 
the external mourning which she wore ever afterwards, suffi- 
cient proof of the absurdity of the popular report of her sub- 
sequent marriage with Lord Jermyn, was a sincere type of 
that fixed sadness of thought which time could not remove, 
if it enabled her to dissemble. She survived, the relict of him 
with whom in life she had mingled each aspiration of hope — 
each desponding gloom of care ; and now the unseen image 
of "her king, her husband and her friend" was to fill the void 
within her breast, even as in his last hour the significant word, 



466 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

"Remember!" uttered to Juxon as the monarch delivered to 
him the jewel of the George, which contained her portrait 
"under the upper side," expressed with striking pathos the 
fond tenacity with which Charles, despising life for its own 
sake, clung to that last ray which shone upon him from her. 

Anxious to escape the popular tumults in Paris, which 
aggravated her distress, the widowed queen retired to St. 
Germain, whence, notwithstanding the great agony she was 
in, she wrote to Charles the Second, desiring him to repair 
into France as soon as possible and not to swear any persons 
of his council till she could speak with him. The first two 
or three days after their meeting were spent in tears and 
lamentations for the great alteration that had happened since 
their last parting, but the queen's grief was soon augmented 
by the reluctance of the king to follow any advice and by the 
distance which he observed in his deportment."' It was 
resolved that Charles should pass over into Scotland, which 
latter country, disgusted at Cromwell's usurpation, had made 
offers to the prince, and upon his arrival at Jersey he was 
immediately proclaimed king. Previous to this event, however, 
the escape from St. James' of the Duke of York, who had 
been taken prisoner in his fifteenth year, had been effected 
under very singular circumstances. We abbreviate the account 
from the Stuart papers : All things being in readiness, the 
duke, after supper, with his brother and sister, went to play 
at hide and seek with the rest of the young people in the 
house. At this childish sport the duke had accustomed him- 
self to play for a fortnight together every night, hiding 
in places so difficult to find that they were half an hour in 
searching for him, at the end of which time he came out of 
his own accord. This was a blind for his design, by which, 
when in earnest, he secured half an hour before suspicion 
could arise. Upon this occasion he locked up a little dog which 
used to follow him, and passed by a back door of which he 
had obtained the key into the park, where he found Bamfield 
and a footman ready to receive him, who put on him a cloak 
and a periwig; after which, in female attire, he reached a 
Dutch vessel, which waited below Gravesend. Meanwhile 
orders were issued, upon the detection of his flight, to watch 
the northern roads and those toward Wales ; nor was the pur- 
suit relinquished till news arrived of his landing in Holland. 
The two other children, the Princess Elizabeth and the Duke 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 467 

of Gloucester, were committed to the Countess of Leicester 
to be treated without any addition of titles, that they might 
not be the objects of respect, to draw the eyes of people 
toward them. They were afterward removed to Carisbrook 
Castle, where the princess died. The duke, from Cromwell's 
suspicion of his becoming a favorite with the disaffected, was 
allowed to embark for Holland soon after the end of the year 
1652. To obtain some addition to_ her straitened resources, 
Henrietta applied, through Cardinal Mazarine, to Cromwell 
for her dowry, which was refused upon a plea which, as the 
queen remarked, reflected less upon herself than upon the 
realm and monarch of France ; namely, that she had never 
been owned for queen of England. In spite, however, of this 
national insult, Mazarine, of whom it was commonly remarked 
in Paris that he had less fear of the devil than of Oliver 
Cromwell, concluded a treaty with England, by which it was 
stipulated that Henrietta should leave Paris, the French 
queen, when appealed to, consoling her with the trite senti- 
ment, we must comply with the times ! As the connection 
became closer, Charles was banished from France and imme- 
diately entertained by the king of Spain, who agreed to fur- 
nish him with men and money for the invasion of England 
from Flanders. Before King Charles left Paris he changed 
his religion, by whose persuasion is not known, only Cardinal 
de Retz was in the secret ; it was reported, however, that the 
queen gave notice to the King of France that her eldest son 
was turned Catholic, and it is certain that she showed her 
anxiety to advance her own religion, both by advising the 
king to agree with the Scottish demands and by every effort, 
through the Abbe Montague, during her residence in the 
Convent of Chaillot, which she had founded, to bring over 
the Duke of Gloucester to her faith. With the Princess Hen- 
rietta she had no difficulty; but the duke, who was encouraged, 
with strange inconsistency, by his brother, the king, to remem- 
ber the last words of his dead father and be constant to his 
religion, resisted every attempt to force him to continue in 
the Jesuits' College, though the bishopric of Metz and other 
ecclesiastical dignities were guaranteed to him. So violent 
was the domestic persecution of the duke by his mother that 
the Marquis of Ormond was dispatched to demand, on the 
part of the king, that his brother should repair to his presence ; 
and, indeed, conducted his mission with the greatest delicacy; 



468 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

yet the queen, in her exasperation at his withdrawal, refused 
to see her son when he offered to take leave of her, and threw 
his letter into the fire in his messenger's sight. For nearly two 
years a coolness was thus occasioned between herself and her 
children, until these minor evils were forgotten in the auspi- 
cious restoration of their former greatness after the death of 
Cromwell. 

Still the queen, so long the victim of misfortune, was not 
permitted personally to enjoy this season of reviving glory 
in consequence of a nuptial contract between his daughter Hen- 
rietta and the Duke of Orleans. And even her subsequent 
visit to England was clouded by the intelligence of the death 
of the Duke of Gloucester and the scarcely less affecting tid- 
ings of the Duke of York's intended marriage with the daugh- 
ter of Lord Clarendon, who had been represented to her and 
the Princess of Orange as totally unworthy of James' affec- 
tion. The wily chancellor, however, ultimately overcame the 
queen's dislike ; for, while he professed himself so shocked, 
"if the union had taken place, as to desire the zvoman to be sent 
to the Tower," he practiced on the queen mother by engaging 
that if she would relax her opposition, to get parliament to 
pay her debts. Henrietta's return to Whitehall, whither she 
was conducted by the former route, with even more magnifi- 
cence than upon her bridal entry, caused a paroxysm of long- 
silenced grief. The spectacle of her emotion at the reviewal 
of scenes associated with all the agonies of her life was, 
indeed, great and terrible. And after the death of the wid- 
owed Princess of Orange in London, anxious to secure her 
surviving daughter from the virulence of the smallpox, which 
had proved so fatal to her family, she left this country, the 
scene of early tribulation and the anxieties of age, and onlv 
once in her subsequent life revisited it for a brief interval. 
The chateau of Colombe, about four leagues from Paris, 
afforded a refuge for the few remaining years of existence to 
this tried Vessel, broken by the storms of state ; and the year 
1669 witnessed the same inflexible courage and patience, under 
long indisposition, which had supported her amidst such fre- 
quent and appalling trials. At the first increase of alarming 
symptoms the repeated solicitation of those around alone 
induced her to allow a consultation of physicians, who pro- 
nounced her case not dangerous, though painful ; but when 
M. Valot recommended the use of opium the queen expressed 



HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 469 

a violent antipathy to the remedy, which in previous years she 
had learned from Dr. Mayerne was inimical to her constitu- 
tion. Her objection was fatally overruled, and in other 
respects some ignorance and want of skill appear to have been 
exhibited in the treatment of the supposed disorder, which 
evinced features nearly allied to those of decline. A continued 
stupor beyond the expected interval of repose alarmed her 
attendant, who summoned the physicians, but even then it 
was some time before the fatal truth could be perceived in 
the reluctance of affection to acknowledge it. Henrietta 
expired August 31, 1669,, at the age of sixty years ; her remains 
being removed to Chaillot, were, after lying in state, conducted 
at night, with all the sepulchral magnificence of departed 
majesty, to the Abbey of St. Denis, and her heart inclosed in 
a vessel of silver, with the following inscription in Latin, was 
deposited in the chapel of the convent : 

HENRIETTA MARIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND, FRANCE, SCOTLAND, AND IRELAND; 

DAUGHTER OF HENRY IV., THE CONQUEROR OF FRANCE J 
WIFE OF CHARLES I., THE MARTYR; MOTHER OF CHARLES II., THE RESTORER. 



CATHERINE OF BRAGANZA. 

Very few English queens have equal claims on the sympathy 
of posterity with, Catherine of Braganza, consort of Charles 
the Second, who ; from the gloomy walls of a monastery in 
which her youth had been passed, was suddenly called forth 
to become the ruling star of the licentious court of her hus- 
band, one of the most dissolute princes in Europe. Wholly 
ignorant of society, and of the customs of the country to which 
she was transplanted, Catherine, who at the time of her mar- 
riage was in her twenty-fifth year, was, although adorned with 
most of the virtues and amiable traits of character which be- 
come a woman and a queen, through an unfortunate combina- 
tion of circumstances, reduced to the humiliating situation 
of a cypher in her own court. Amid all the revelry and 
pageantry that surrounded the Merry Monarch, Catherine 
passed a joyless existence, blessed neither with the honors of 
the wife, the mother, nor the queen. Yet in reality she was far 
more to be envied for her simplicity and goodness of heart, 
which seemed to bid defiance to the frowns of fortune, than 
were many of those haughty and worthless dames, by whose 
presence she was destined to be insulted, and by whom she 
was deprived of the affections of her fickle consort. Charles, 
however, to Catherine's praise be it said, seems from first to 
last to have entertained some appreciation of the excellence 
of his neglected and ill-used wife. The circumstances which 
led to their union are not devoid of interest, although they 
exhibit the selfish views of the king in a manner little credit- 
able to his character either as a gentleman or a royal lover. 

The parents of this princess were the celebrated John, Duke 
of Braganza, who by a patriotic and bloodless revolution had 
been elevated to the throne of Portugal, a. d. 1641, and Louisa 
de Guzman, the daughter of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, 
who after her husband's death presided as regent for her son 

470 



CATHERINE OF BRAGANZA. 471 

during his minority, and who by her beauty, talents, and 
prudence preserved the kingdom from Spain. 

Catherine was their third child and only daughter. She was 
born November 25th, 1638, two years before her father 
mounted the throne of Portugal, and proceeded to achieve its 
independence. When Catherine had just completed her sev- 
enth year, her father proposed an alliance between her and 
the young Prince of "Wales ; but Charles the First did not re- 
spond to the proposition. Seventeen years afterwards, when 
Catherine was two-and-twenty, and Charles the Second had 
regained the throne of England, the same proposal was re- 
newed. By her mother's instructions, Don Francisco de Melo, 
the ambassador to the English court, was ordered to propose 
the hand of the princess to Charles, who was informed, through 
the medium of the Earl of Manchester, his Lord Chamberlain, 
that 500,000/. sterling would be given as her dower, together 
with the fortress of Tangiers in Africa, the Island of Bombay, 
and free trade for the English to the Brazils. The faith of 
Catherine, who had been brought up a Catholic, presented in- 
deed an obstacle to the alliance ; but it was suggested that, as 
she was ignorant alike of business and politics, she would be 
content with enjoying her own views, without interfering with 
those of others, her temper being naturally gentle and submis- 
sive. The marriage, which was discussed in Council, was 
warmly seconded by Lord Clarendon ;* and meeting no opposi- 
tion, Charles, tempted by the golden bribe of the dowry, 
deputed the Portuguese ambassador to return with an account 
of his favorable reception to his own country, and to obtain 
a ratification of the treaty ; that treaty which has ever since 
bound the two crowns of England and Portugal in a strict 
alliance. 

Don Francisco de Melo had been also the bearer of a letter 
in Charles' own hand, in which he addressed the Infanta as his 
wife. Notwithstanding, the match was nearly broken off by 
the interest of the Earl of Bristol, then high in Charles' favor, 
and who was supported by Don Louis de Haro, then ambas- 
sador from Spain in the English court, whose influence was 
exerted in behalf of Spain, then opposed to Portugal. This 



*Some indeed think this statesman first suggested the match, and it 
is certain that the Queen-Mother, Henrietta Maria, desired it might 
take place because the Princess was a catholic, 



472 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

nobleman presented to the mind of the fickle monarch such a 
contrast between the plainness of the Infanta and che beauty 
of some of the Italian princesses, that Charles began to grow 
indifferent on the subject of the proposed alliance; and when 
the ambassador returned from Lisbon he was so coolly received, 
that chagrin caused him to take to his bed from real or pre- 
tended illness. A new crisis relieved him from his embarrass- 
ment by the turn which affairs took, owing to Bristol's levity 
and the audacity of his Spanish ally, De Haro, whom Charles 
ordered to quit the kingdom at a few days' notice. The Chan- 
cellor and Council at this favorable juncture persuaded Charles 
that he could not in honor retract from his engagement with 
Catherine, which Bastido, the French envoy, confirmed ; and 
a portrait of the young princess herself, brought over by her 
ambassador, decided the point. The king, on beholding the 
delicate and soft features there portrayed, with the clear 
olive complexion and fine dark eyes, which gave expression 
to a face which could not perhaps be considered actually beau- 
tiful, immediately exclaimed, "That person could not be un- 
handsome," and decided the matter. Lord Sandwich was 
accordingly commissioned with a fleet to conclude the treaty, 
and to fetch over his bride to England. He was at the same 
time instructed to take possession of Tangiers. Further dis- 
appointments, however, were yet to be encountered. Louisa 
de Guzman, the queen-mother, by the sale of her jewels, and 
rich plate obtained from the monasteries, had provided the 
sum arranged to be given as her daughter's dower, but was 
afterwards compelled to use it to raise forces against Spain ; 
so that when Lord Sandwich arrived she was unable to furnish 
the money. In this awkward dilemma she offered to place on 
board Charles' fleet the amount of half the sum in jewels, sugar, 
cotton, silk, and other commodities, and promised that the 
remainder should be paid within a year. Lord Sandwich had 
no alternative but acquiescence ; but the weight of this un- 
toward circumstance afterwards fell with full force upon 
Catherine. Charles' disappointment and chagrin at the arrival 
of a bride whom he had looked forward to as worth her weight 
in gold, unaccompanied by the expected dower, may very easily 
be conceived. 

These were not the only mortifications which attended the 
marriage of Catherine. Spain, having at that time great in- 
fluence with the Papal Court, while the title of the House 



CATHERINE OF BRAGANZA. 473 

of Braganza in Spain was still unacknowledged, it was deemed 
advisable to postpone applying for the necessary dispensa- 
tion to the Pope "until after Catherine's arrival in England, for 
it would have been too great an indignity to submit to the title 
which such a dispensation would have awarded to Catherine, 
not of sister of the King of Portugal, but merely of sister and 
daughter of the Duke of Braganza. To avoid this, Catherine 
was compelled to waive the honors usually awarded to 
princesses under her peculiar circumstances. Much ceremony, 
however, attended her formal embarkation in the vessel which 
had been prepared to convey her to the shores of England, 
when a royal salute was fired by the British fleet, and responded 
to by the Portuguese forts, and on the 13th of April, 1662, 
Catherine bade adieu to the land of her nativity. The vessel 
which contained the future Queen of England, and which was 
called the ''Royal Charles," had been carefully fitted up for 
her accommodation. , 

Her royal cabin and her state-room too, 
Adorn'd with gold and lined with velvet through ; 
The cushions, stools and chairs, and clothes of state, 
All of the same materials and rate ; 
The bed made for her majesty's repose. 
White as the lily, red as Sharon's rose ; 
Egypt nor isles of Chittim have not seen 
Such rich embroideries, nor such a queen ; 
Windows with taffeties and damask hung. 
While costly carpets on the floor are flung. 

And, indeed, the poor queen stood in need of every comfort 
as well as luxury during the voyage, for she suffered much 
from seasickness, which must have made her voyage to Eng- 
land sufficiently disagreeable in itself. On arriving off the Isle 
of Wight, after a long and stormy passage, the appearance 
of the queen's squadron was recognized from the shore by 
fireworks and salutes of artillery ; and the Duke of York, who 
had put to sea to welcome the queen, his sister-in-law, with 
five frigates, sent to request permission to wait on her and kiss 
her hand. At the interview which followed, Catherine was 
attired in a white cloth dress, trimmed with silver lace, and 
she received the Duke and his brilliant suite in the innermost 
cabinet of the royal cabin. The English nobles were introduced 
to the queen, and she presented to James the Portuguese 
fidalgos who had attended her to England. De Grammont 



474 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

has given a laughable picture of the royal retinue, which con- 
sisted of an old duenna ( guarda damas), "more hideous than 
all her damsels, as stiff as pride and buckram could make her ; 
six almoners, a confessor, a Jewish performer, and an officer 
whose functions seem to have afterwards puzzled the whole 
court and who was entitled the 'queen's barber'!" Catherine 
gracefully explained to her guest who the persons were that 
had accompanied her, and they were treated most graciously 
by the duke, who departed with a favorable impression of the 
royal bride. Catherine, on this her first appearance in public, 
spoke to all the officers of the ship, and not only permitted 
them to kiss her hand, but presented the pilot and master with 
money for themselves and their crew. James, perceiving at 
subsequent interviews that Catherine still wore the English 
costume which she had adopted in compliment to her new coun- 
try, requested permission to behold her in her national costume, 
which Catherine having complied with, received a compliment 
on her appearance. It was, perhaps, this circumstance that 
led to her afterwards adopting the Portuguese attire, to which 
she was strongly advised to adhere by her own attendants, 
who wished her neither to learn English nor to adopt the 
fashion of this country, but to adhere to her own. Catherine's 
Portuguese dress was a great novelty to the English, consisting 
of a full-bottomed wig, with a high bodice, ruff, and farthin- 
gale ; notwithstanding which, Pepys, who joined in the general 
amusement at her expense, in ridiculing so odious a fashion, 
describes the queen as having a good, modest, and innocent 
look, though not as being "very charming;" and Clarendon 
thought she had quite enough wit and beauty even to please 
Charles, had not her bigotry, the result of her ill-education, 
spoiled her. 

Catherine, who had arrived on the 14th, and had been con- 
ducted, on her landing at Portsmouth, to the king's house, 
there to await her affianced husband who had been detained in 
London, maintained a strict seclusion for some days, according 
to etiquette, during which period she was attacked with a sore 
throat and fever, which not only confined her to her bed, but 
even placed her life in danger. Of this Charles was not ap- 
prised, as her recovery was speedy ; but the first interview with 
Catherine, on the 2Tst of May, took place in her apartment, 
she being still unable to leave her bed from the effects of suf- 
fering. A letter from Charles himself describes the impres- 



CATHERINE OF BRAGANZA. . 475 

sion made on him even at a moment so unfavorable ; it is ad- 
dressed to Lord Clarendon : , 

* * Her face is not so exact as to be called a beauty, though 
her eyes are excellent good, and not anything in her face that in the 
least degree can shock one. On the contrary, she has as much agree- 
ableness in her looks altogether as ever I saw ; and, if I have any 
skill in physiognomy, which I think I have, she must be as good a 
woman as ever was born. Her conversation as much as I can perceive 
is very good ; for she has wit enough,, and a most agreeable voice. 
You would much wonder to see how well we are acquainted already. 
In a word. I think myself very happy; but I am confident our two 
humors will agree well together. I have not time to say any more. 
My Lord Lieutenant will give you an account of the rest." 

The ceremony of marriage was performed immediately after 
the first introduction of Charles to Catherine, by Lord Au- 
bigny, the queen's almoner, according to the Roman ritual, 
with which she would not dispense, the Portuguese ambassador, 
and two. or three of her attendants, being the only persons 
present. Dr. Sheldon, Bishop of London, afterwards married 
them publicly after the form of the Protestant church, on which 
occasion Catherine is said to have turned her head away pout- 
ingly, neither repeating the words of the ritual nor looking the 
Bishop in the face, though she required him to pronounce her 
the wife of Charles before he quitted her chamber. This, how- 
ever, has more charitably been attributed to her not venturing 
publicly to pronounce so much English, the rest of her be- 
havior on her arrival in this country being marked by the 
greatest prudence and good humor. This hasty and imperfect 
marriage afterwards was made a pretext for agitating a di- 
voice, it being pretended by some to be a mere contract, and 
not binding on the king. On her wedding day Catherine was 
robed in a rose-colored dress, according to the English fashion, 
trimmed with knots of blue ribbon, which the Countess of Suf- 
folk, first lady of the bedchamber, when the ceremony was 
ended, cut off and distributed to the company, beginning with 
the Duke of York, the officers of state, ladies, and every guest 
having the honor in turn, till the queen had not one remaining. 
On the 27th the royal couple proceeded to Windsor, and hav- 
ing passed one night there, arrived on the 29th, the anniversary 
of the king's birth and coronation, at Hampton Court, where 
they were received with much festivity. 

The general opinion of Catherine at this time was that she 
was a very fine and handsome lady, and that the king was well 



476 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

enough pleased with her. Catherine's troubles were, however, 
not far distant. It must have been a great grief to her affec- 
tionate heart to part with the attendants selected to accompany 
her to England and who were speedily dismissed by Charles, 
with the exception of the Countess of Penalwa, who perceived 
the confusion their presence created, and a list of new ones 
was submitted to the queen for her approval. How deeply 
her heart, which had early been given to Charles, must have 
been pained to behold on that list the name of Lady Castle- 
maine, her husband's acknowledged mistress. It appears that 
Catherine had been informed of the king's infatuated attach- 
ment to this woman before she quitted Lisbon, and had been 
charged by her mother never to permit her name to be men- 
tioned in her hearing, so that Catherine never having made 
the slightest allusion to the subject Charles imagined her 
wholly ignorant of it, up to the time when she perceived the 
name of Lady Castlemaine at the head of the list. The queen 
instantly drew her pen across it, and when Charles presumed 
to insist on her being nominated to the office, she replied 
haughtily she would return to her own country sooner than 
submit to such an indignity, nor could Charles pacify her till 
he had promised to have nothing more to do with Lady Castle- 
maine — a vain concession, and a pledge too speedily broken ! 

At a drawing-room held at Hampton Court within two 
months after her marriage, Charles insulted Catherine so far 
as to introduce Lady Castlemaine to her. The queen not hear- 
ing the name distinctly, received her with her usually graceful 
and benign manner, but a whisper from behind advertising her 
of the disgraceful fact, she started from her seat, changed 
color, from red to pale alternately ; blood rushed from her 
nostrils, and she sunk in the arms of her attendants, by whom 
she was carried senseless from the apartment. Thus the as- 
'sembly was suddenly broken up by a most unprovoked insult 
towards the queen, from her royal consort. Charles had, in- 
deed, taken up an opinion that the queen wanted to govern, by 
her refusal to admit Lady Castlemaine as her lady of the bed- 
chamber, and was resolved to carry his point. The lord chan- 
cellor, though so much disgusted by Charles' conduct that he 
had quitted the court, suffered himself to be employed as a 
sort of mediator, to persuade the queen into acquiescence. He 
had an interview with her, but on his attempting to introduce 
the subject, her tears and indignation prevented him from pro- 



CATHERINE OF BRAGANZA. 477 

ceecling with so unpleasant a topic. This forbearance led 
Catherine the next day to beg his .pardon, for giving way to a 
passion that "was ready to break her heart," and to ask his 
advice in the matter, upon which she now desired him to speak 
freely. Notwithstanding this favorable chance for the politic 
minister, with all his preamble, he could obtain no better answer 
than his employer, viz., that "sooner than submit she would 
embark for Lisbon in any little vessel." 

Notwithstanding this, Charles followed up his purpose in 
his own way ; reproaching Catherine with want of duty, and 
with seeking her amusements out of his society,* knowing well 
at the same time, that he possessed the heart of this amiable 
and ill-used woman. He then ceased to insist ; but by neglecting 
her, and excluding her from his parties of pleasure, he showed 
her that she was an object of indifference to him. The very 
courtiers, watchful of their master's feelings, crowded round 
Lady Castlemaine, so that Catherine seemed to have become a 
mere cypher and to have lost her influence over those around 
her. Her pride gave way under, these repeated humiliations, 
and she yielded at last against her principles. For this she was 
despised by those who had honored her firmness, and even in- 
curred the contempt of Charles, who from having respected her 
motives for resistance, now came to regard them as proud and 
petulant, rather than originating in female dignity. 

Lady Castlemaine was accordingly chosen lady of the bed- 
chamber and from that time forward Charles and Catherine 
preserved outwardly their good understanding towards each 
other. Catherine seems to have closed her eyes to all the king's 



*At that time masquerading was much in vogue, and in encouraging 
this taste Catherine met with several very ludicrous adventures. One 
instance is particularly mentioned when Catherine, with the Duchesses 
of Richmond and Buckingham, had assumed the disguise of country 
lasses in red petticoats, and repaired to a fair at Audley-End, where 
the court was staying at the time. Sir Bernard Gascoigne, who had 
been appointed to ride before the ladies on a sorry cart-horse, having, 
on their arrival, attended the queen into one of the booths, Catherine is 
said to have asked to buy a pair of gaiters for her sweete harte, with 
such an extravagant rusticity that they were discovered, and scarcely 
could effect their retreat to their horses for the crowds of men and 
women and children who flocked about them and followed them even 
to the gates of the court. On another occasion the queen's chairman 
"not knowing who she was, went away from her, so she was all alone 
and much disturbed, and came to Whitehall in a hackney-coach, some 
say in a cart." 



478 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

deviations from conjugal duty, and to have supported with a 
stoical indifference the presence of his mistresses. Accom- 
modating herself to her situation, she strove, by encouraging 
every gayety which might be agreeable to the king, to win his 
regard, while she was degrading her own attachment by the line 
of conduct she pursued. Such a life was not one of happiness, 
nor what Catherine had expected, and her health began to give 
way amidst the constant self-denial she was required to exercise. 
During the summer a brief interval of pleasure was afforded her 
by the arrival of the queen-mother, Henrietta, from France, who 
treated her with great respect and affection, and who seemed 
to inspire Charles and his courtiers with the same feelings. 
There was much public pageantry and merriment. The joy, 
however, was but evanescent. One of the queen's many mortifi- 
cations was that of not becoming a mother of an heir to the 
throne, which she had fondly hoped might have endeared her to 
her fickle husband. Amid these many troubles Catherine was 
attacked by a dangerous fever, during which her life was twice 
given over by the physicians, and in which, during her 
paroxysms of delirium, she raved repeatedly about her children, 
fancying she had three, and expressing much fear lest her boy 
should turn out an ugly one. The king, who was by her side 
throughout her illness, to soothe her said, "No ; he was a very 
pretty boy," to which Catherine answered, "Nay, if he be like 
you he is a very pretty boy indeed, and I should be very well 
pleased with it." On another occasion her first words on waking 
were, "How are the children ?" Had the poor queen indeed be- 
come a mother, her affectionate heart might have received, in 
the exercise of her maternal duties, some consolation for the 
neglect of Charles and the insolence of his mistresses. 

The queen's illness, however, called forth a latent tenderness 
in the king, for which Catherine was so grateful that it seemed 
to compensate for all her sufferings ; indeed to the tenderness 
Charles showed, her recovery was mainly attributable. Waller 
has thus alluded to the tears shed by the king during his at- 
tendance on Catherine— her case being then considered hope- 
less : 

He that was never known to mourn 

So many kingdoms from him torn ; 

His tears reserved for you. more dear. 

More prized than all those kingdoms were. 

For when no healing art avail'd. 

When cordials and elixirs fail'd, 

On your pale cheek he dropp'd the shower. 

Revived you like a dying flower. 



CATHERINE OF BRAGANZA. 470, 

Another of Waller's poems is called, "Tea commanded by her 
Majesty"; and he wrote an epigram, "Upon a card which her 
Majesty tore at ombre," which, however, has not much point 
in it. 

Catherine never interfered in politics nor aimed at forming 
any party in her own behalf ; indeed, the mere fact of her favor- 
ing any individual was sure to call forth the king's displeasure, 
from his natural love of contradiction. Edward Montague, son 
of Lord Manchester, was disgraced' and turned out of court 
simply because he had obtained the queen's notice ; for though 
Charles had no fears of Catherine's indiscretion or dereliction 
of duty in any case, he would not allow her to acquire any in- 
fluence. The profligate Buckingham desiring to give some ex- 
cuse for a divorce, that Charles might be able to marry Miss 
Stewart, offered to carry off Catherine, but the king with much 
honor rejected the proposal, saying, "It was a wicked thing to 
make a poor lady miserable, only because she was his wife and 
had no children, which was not her fault." The conduct of 
Catherine indeed placed her above suspicion even in this the 
most dissolute court in Europe, and the only subjects on which 
she was open to satire from enemies, were her Papist education 
and inordinate love of dancing. One of the poetical productions 
referring to this taste of Catherine, called "The Queen's Ball," 
by Andrew Marvel, was excessively ill-natured, and makes al- 
lusion to a habit of putting jewels in her mouth. After accusing 
poor Catherine of bad dancing, and observing on the king him- 
self, 

who would have his wife to have his crown, 

the rhymes run politely on with the remark — 

See in her mouth a sparkling diamond shine, 
The first good thing that e'er came from that mine ! 

Catherine, though she might give occasion to much satire, 
never incurred blame, and when a divorce was seriously agi- 
tated, and was even discussed in the House of Lords, it was the 
voice of Charles himself that put a stop to the affair, by say- 
ing, that "if his conscience would allow him to divorce the 
queen, it would suffer him to dispatch her out of the world." 
He however tried without success to induce her to enter a nun- 
nery. Again Charles took the part of his unoffending queen 
when she was accused by the wretches Oates and Bedloe of a 
conspiracy against his life. Catherine was actually arraigned 



480 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

on a charge of high treason at the bar of the House of Com- 
mons by Oates, but the stories invented against her, and the 
blunders of the accuser, not only failed, but saved the life of 
Sir George Wakeman, the queen's physician, who was tried on 
the charge of accepting a bribe of 15,000/. to poison Charles. 
Moreover, when the Commons petitioned the king to remove 
Catherine from Whitehall, and send her attendants from the 
country, he simply observed, "They think I have a mind for a 
new wife ; but, for all that, I will not stand by and see an in- 
nocent woman abused." These facts afford evidence of some 
redeeming points even in the profligate Charles the Second. 

The death of the Earl of Ossory, who had succeeded Don 
Francisco de Melo, in 1676, as Lord Chamberlain to the queen, 
called forth the following amiable letter from Catherine, ad- 
dressed by her own hand to the Duke of Ormond, father of the 
earl. The letter is yet preserved among the Ormond papers, 
indorsed, "Received, 3d September, 1681." 

My Lord Duke of Ormond, 

I do not think anything I can say will lessen your trouble for the 
death of my Lord Ossory, who is so greate a loss to the King and 
the publicke, as well as to my own particular service, that I know not 
how to express it ; but every day will teach me, by shewing me the 
want I shall find of so true a friend. But I must have so much pity 
upon you as to say but little on so sad a subject, conjuring you to 
believe that I am. My Lord Duke of Ormond, 

Your very affectionate friend, 

"Catharina Regina." 

When Charles, who had been struck with apoplexy, was on 
his deathbed, February, 1685, the queen sent to request permis- 
sion to attend him, and to implore forgiveness for any offenses 
which she had from ignorance committed against him. x\n 
affectionate answer was returned by Charles, who said he had 
nothing to forgive but had to demand her pardon for the many 
wrongs he had done her. Catherine was admitted to the bed- 
side of her husband, but was soon compelled to retire by the 
presence of the notorious Duchess of Portsmouth. The grief 
of Catherine, the reality of which might perhaps have been 
doubted at the dissolution of such a tie as this, was visible to 
those who attended to condole with her on the mournful oc- 
casion, and who were received by the widowed queen in an 
apartment lighted only with tapers, and the walls of which were 
hung with funereal black from the ceiling to the floor. Indeed, 
although Catherine survived her husband twentv-one years, she 



CATHERINE OF BRAGANZA. 481 

continued devotedly attached to his memory. The king's last 
request had been "Let not poor Nelly starve," and no greater 
proof of attachment could have been given by the queen than 
that of allowing the Duke of St. Albans, son of Nell Gwynne, 
an annual pension of 2,000/, out of her own income. This cir- 
cumstance, if true, tells much in favor of Catherine. 

Somerset House was the residence of Catherine after her 
husband's death, and during the summer months she spent some 
part of her time at her villa at Hammersmith, where she resided 
in much privacy, and with great economy, if we except the 
splendid concerts which she gave at stated periods, music being 
one of her favorite pursuits. She was much respected by James 
the Second, and by the whole court during the seven years she 
resided in England after Charles' death. In 1692, the queen- 
dowager returned to Lisbon, to pass the residue of her days 
in her native land, carrying with her whatever she had amassed 
by the prudent management of her income and some valuable 
pictures which formed part of the payment of a debt which she 
claimed from the crown. On her homeward way she was in- 
vited by Louis the Fourteenth to visit the French court, but 
she was too anxious to behold the home of her youth to accept 
the invitation. After an illness on the road which detained her 
for a time, she entered Lisbon, January 20th, 1693, being tri- 
umphantly attended by her bother, Don Pedro, then the reign- 
ing monarch, and a large train of his nobility who had hastened 
forth to welcome her on her return. Although she quitted Eng- 
land, Catherine provided for her English household to the day 
of her death ; the Countess of Fingall and her daughters at- 
tended her to Portugal, but at the end of eight years returned 
to their own country by permission of their royal mistress. 

Catherine continued to be treated with the greatest respect 
and attention in Portugal. The last years of her life were 
passed at Bemposta, where she built a new palace, chapel, and 
quinta, and whence occasional visits were made to the court by 
the express desire of her brother the king. In 1704, Catherine 
being ill and unable to quit Bemposta, the court repaired to her 
palace there to receive a visit from the Archduke Charles, then 
a candidate for the Spanish crown, and who was supported 
in his claims by England and Portugal. 

In 1705, Catherine, who had been neglected and despised by 
the wits of England as a person of no capacity, was in conse- 
quence of the tact she exhibited in governing during a short 
season when her brother required her services, made Queen 



482 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

Regent of Portugal during his severe illness, and as such she 
conducted a war against Philip of Anjou, King of Spain, with 
so much ability, that the Portuguese armies were crowned with 
complete success. 

Little more remains to be said of Catherine : she had proved 
herself not only to be endowed with - the noblest affections of 
the heart but with superior mental qualifications. Her death 
was sudden, from an attack of colic, December 31st, 1705, she 
being rather more than sixty-seven years of age at the time. 
Her will, dated February 14th, 1699, made her brother Don 
Pedro her heir, and she not only richly endowed her relatives, 
but left many charitable bequests. By her own request her 
remains were removed to the monastery of Belem, and her 
obsequies were conducted with the greatest possible solemnity 
and grandeur by order of Don Pedro, who directed a suspension 
of all public business for eight days, and a general mourning 
during the space of a whole year, to testify his respect and that 
of the nation to the memory of the royal deceased. 



MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA, 

QUEEN OF JAMES THE SECOND. 

The parents of Mary Beatrice were Alphonso d'Este, Duke 
of Modena and Laura Martinozzi, a Roman lady. She was a 
seven months' child, their eldest offspring, bom October 5th, 
1658. Her father reigned but four years in his duchy, dying 
in the prime of life, and leaving his two surviving children, 
Mary Beatrice and Francis the Second, under the guardian- 
ship and regency of the duchess. Her mother exercised great 
severity in their education, both as regards morals and religion, 
and the princess later in life used to recall passages in the stern 
discipline of her childhood with marked disapprobation. She 
was sent to finish her education in a convent of Carmelite nuns, 
and at a very early age conceived the idea of taking the veil. 
So innocent, but it must be said, so ignorant also, in the very 
groundwork of education was she, that when at the age of fif- 
teen overtures of marriage were made to her on the part of the 
Duke of York, afterwards James the Second, she neither knew 
who he was nor where England might be. She was then tall 
and considered very handsome, could read and write Latin and 
French, and had a genius and a passion for music. But her 
earnest desire to be a nun remained, after all the brilliancy of 
this offer had been explained to her. When she learnt that he 
was verging on forty years of age, she entreated that her young- 
est aunt might marry him instead. The negotiations were very 
troublesome, and she finally acceded only in obedience to the 
commands of her mother and amidst floods of tears. Nothing, 
indeed, could pacify her until it was settled that her mother 
should accompany her to England, which she did, and remained 
there with her six weeks. The Duke of York met her upon the 
sands at Dover, and the nuptials were solemnized at that place. 

The honors of the Duke of York had already, before the date 
of this marriage with a Roman Catholic princess, begun to lose 
their value in the sight of this Protestant nation. The feats of 



484 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

valor which he had displayed with Turenne in the Protestant 
cause of old, the dangers which he had fearlessly incurred more 
recently in battle with the Dutch, while admiral of the English 
fleet, all were being fast obliterated by the obstinate bigotry 
with which, as heir apparent, he persisted in defying the re- 
ligious opinions of the House of Commons and of the country. 
The troubles which he drew down upon himself, upon his second 
consort, and her posterity, were beginning to be fomented al- 
most with his marriage. Five years, however, from the date 
of her marriage are spoken of by Mary d'Este as the happiest 
of her life, notwithstanding the death almost at their birth of 
two or three of her first children. She became deeply attached 
to her husband»despite some infidelities on his part; she soon, 
also, learnt the English language and became a patroness of 
literature and authors. The duke's banishment to Flanders was 
scarcely an interruption to this dream, because she accompanied 
him, and when he obtained leave from Charles the Second, a lit- 
tle later, to transfer his residence to Scotland, she again followed 
his fortunes. It was in November, 1679, that the Duke and 
Duchess of York took up their quarters at Hohyrood House, 
where they became exceedingly popular, and remained, with the 
exception of two or three visits to London, until they were 
called to the throne. It was while she held her court in Scot- 
land that a grave accident occurred to Mary of Modena. She 
was thrown from her horse, dragged some distance and received 
several kicks from the animal before she could be extricated. 
She was at first thought dead, but fortunately had met with no 
dangerous wounds. On her recovery she again took equestrian 
exercise, which, however, the united entreaties of her husband 
and mother persuaded her to discontinue. 

The duchess was again enceinte in 1684, and the duke being 
more popular just then in England, the king desired that the 
child should be born at St. James'. It was on the return of 
James by sea for the purpose of conducting his duchess to 
London, that he encountered that terrible shipwreck in the 
"Gloucester," in which many perished. Notwithstanding the 
terrors of her ladies. Mary Beatrice went by water immediately 
afterwards to London, and was, early in 1685, present at the 
death-bed of the king, her brother-in-law, for whom her grief 
was excessive. 

The first act of Queen Mary d'Este on ascending the British 
throne was somewhat arbitrary. It concerned not the subjects 
of these realms, but her own brother, from whom she had parted 



MARIA BEATRICE OF MODENA. 485 

long years before on terms of "the purest affection, but who had 
chosen to decline the matrimonial state up to the age of five-and- 
twenty. The Queen of England had selected a wife for him, 
and after in vain communicating her pleasure, proceeded to dis- 
play much bitterness and anger in her correspondence, and 
threatened to withdraw her powerful support from his duchy 
and become his enemy. The sound morality of her conduct, 
however, made a strong impression amidst a court which had 
learnt to live in abandonment, though she had not, with all her 
youthful charms of person and mind, waaned the affections of 
her husband, as yet, from his avowed mistress, Catharine Sed- 
ley. In the early part of their reign, the queen suffered much 
unhappiness on this account, but at length, after James had 
made Sedley, Countess of Dorchester, and bestowed on her 
some Irish possessions, the wrong was at least publicly at an 
end. The next event which aroused to hew pangs the sensitive 
heart of the queen, was the death of her mother at Rome, on 
July 19, 1687. The duchess had visited Mary more than once 
since they first quitted Italy together, and an affectionate cor- 
respondence had been maintained to the last. 

Casting only a hasty glance at the portentous circumstance 
that James had just committed the Archbishop of Canterbury 
and six bishops to the Tower, to show the headlong madness 
with which he was ruining his own prospects and' those of his 
wife and the child she then bore, we arrive on the 10th of June, 
1688, at the birth of the Prince of Wales, christened James 
Francis Edward, and best known in history as the Pretender. 
The partisans of Mary and Anne raised an imputation that this 
was a spurious child, but the attestations of highly reputable 
Protestant ladies show it . to have been a malicious calumny 
which could not have gained credence in less stormy times. This 
infant was to be the inseparable companion of Mary Beatrice 
in the calamities which now fell thick and fast upon her. The 
last mad act of the reign of his parents was, that of accepting 
the Pope as his godfather. William of Orange effected a land- 
ing, and James showed an irresolution wholly at variance with 
his early career. It was with difficulty and only to save the 
child that Mary Beatrice was persuaded to separate from her 
husband and fly first to France. She crossed the Thames from 
Whitehall to Lambeth on a stormy night in an open boat, took 
coach to Gravesend, and there embarked in the disguise of an 
Italian washerwoman in a common passage vessel. She carried 



486 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the little prince packed like a bundle of linen under her arm, 
and it was singular that he did not once cry, and that he proved 
himself, moreover, an excellent sailor. The queen herself was 
very ill on the voyage, but both arrived safely at Calais on 
December nth. She was only then in her thirty-first year. 
Sixteen years before, she had quitted Italy, as she now quitted 
England, for ever. 

The attentions of Louis the Fourteenth to Mary Beatrice, 
from the clay of her landing in his territory, were munificent 
beyond description. She was his adopted daughter, and well 
did this powerful friend in her need supply the place of a parent 
towards her. When joined by her husband, he gave up to the 
royal pair one of the finest palaces in France, St. Germains, 
and there they held their court during the remainder of their 
career. A melancholy separation from her husband, when he 
departed on his Irish expedition, speedily ensued ; and his fail- 
ure at the battle of the Boyne might have afflicted her more 
painfully, had it not brought him back to her side in safety. 
She collected and advanced sums of money during his absence, 
and her letters to Jacobites at home, both now and afterwards, 
displayed considerable talent for business. Religion also much 
occupied her thoughts ; she had formed an intimacy with the 
' inmates of the Convent of Chaillot, which deepened as years of 
increased misfortune rolled on ; and whatever time she could 
spare from her husband and his interests, and the tedious 
ceremonies of the French court, was passed in visiting or cor- 
responding with them. The destruction of the French fleet by 
the English, which occurred shortly before the birth of his 
youngest child, and with it the last hope of James, seemed to 
have unsettled the royal exile's mind ; for he protracted his ab- 
sence at La Hogue, despite the queen's earnest solicitations for 
his return, until almost the period of her accouchement. The 
birth of the Princess Louisa took place on June 28, 1692. In 
little more than two years from that date, the death of her 
brother added one more to the number of her griefs. It was 
about this time, 1694, that the exiled queen sold her jewels for 
the support of her numerous faithful followers at St. Germains ; 
for though Louis allowed a certain sum for their maintenance, 
her own dower, voted by parliament, was regularly appropriated 
by William of Orange. 

At the commencement of 1695, Mary the Second being dead, 
James's hopes revived in England, and there was another heart- 
rending parting between him and his doting wife previous to 



MARIA BEATRICE OF MODENA. 487 

a descent upon that country, which he meditated ; but the winds 
and' waves this time destroyed the fleet, and returned him to 
her in despair although in safety. His health, however, began 
to decline fast, and though it was seven years from that date 
ere he breathed his last, he had frequent attacks which warned 
her that the heaviest blow of all to her heart was approaching. 
Her conjugal tenderness has rarely been surpassed; and when 
he was struck with apoplexy in March, 1701, her violent grief 
was only equaled by the devotion of' her attendance on him till 
the day of his death, September 16, following. 

The widowhood of Queen Mary Beatrice, with all its trials 
of poverty, sickness, and disappointed hopes for her son, has to 
summed up here in few words. She was nearly forty-three 
years of age at her husband's death ; she lived to the age of 
sixty, having survived James more than sixteen years, and hav- 
ing spent thirty years in exile after her deposition. Before that 
event, on the 7th of May, 17 18, she witnessed consecutively the 
deaths of her enemy William the Third, her daughter Louisa, 
of smallpox, in 1712, her kind friend and father, Louis the 
Fourteenth, the Electress Sophia of Hanover, her rival, and 
her stepdaughter. Queen Anne. She was besides doomed to a 
cruel separation from her son at the peace of Utrecht, when he 
Avas compelled to retire from the French territory, and finally 
to behold as the destruction of all her long-cherished hopes, 
the utter defeat of her son's cause in the Rebellion of 1715. 
What alternating effects all these occurrences produced upon 
the susceptible heart of the lonely and now aged exile, Mary 
Beatrice of Modena, must be left to the imagination of the 
reader. 

The funeral obsequies of the departed queen were performed 
at the Convent at Chaillot, at the expense of the French govern- 
ment. She had desired that her remains should rest there, and 
no Queen of England ever died so poor. 



MARY THE SECOND, 

QUEEN OF WILLIAM THE THIRD. 

Mary, the eldest daughter of James the Second, was born at 
St. James' Palace, a. d. 1662, during the reign of her uncle, 
King Charles, her father being then Duke of York, and heir 
apparent to the throne, which he afterwards filled. Her mother, 
Anne Hyde, was a daughter of the celebrated Lord Clarendon.' 
It was fortunate for Mary and for England that her mother 
was a Protestant, and, perhaps, quite as much so that she at- 
tracted little public notice, owing to the expectations of a male 
succession from the marriage of her uncle Charles the Second, 
which took place about the time of her birth. She was named 
Mary after her aunt, the Princess of Orange, and Mary Queen 
of Scots ; and Prince Rupert stood as her godfather. Soon 
afterwards, she was sent to her grandfather's, the Earl of 
Clarendon, at Twickenham, to be nursed in a pure air. In 
fifteen months, a little brother was born — James, Duke of 
Cambridge — who did not live long ; and in about another such 
interval of time, her sister Anne. The three children were for 
the most part brought up at Twickenham and Richmond, till 
the death of their mother, which took place in 1671, when Mary 
was about nine years of age. Their governess at Rich- 
mond was Lady Francis Villiers, daughter of the Earl of Suf- 
folk ; and the two princesses were constantly associated with 
Lady Villiers' six daughters ; the whole of whom ever after- 
wards clung tenaciously to the courts and fortunes of Mary and 
Anne ; and Elizabeth Villiers, the eldest, became in future years 
the trouble of Mary's wedded life. Here also were introduced 
the afterwards celebrated Frances and Sarah Jennings ; and it 
is curious that Sarah, afterwards the Duchess of Marlborough, 
attached herself at this early age especially to the Princess Anne, 
as her playfellow. After the marriage of their father with the 
Catholic princess, Mary of Modena, the education of the two 



MARY THE SECOND. 489 

children was removed from under their .father's control, and 
they were still educated in the Protestant faith. 

In the sixteenth year of Mary's age, she bestowed her hand 
upon William Henry of Nassau, the Prince of Orange, from 
which period she continued to reside with her husband in Hol- 
land, until February 12th, 1689, when, her husband having won 
from her father the throne of England, she came over, and was 
solemnly proclaimed queen. To this match Mary was originally 
extremely averse. In fact, as is generally the fate of princesses, 
her inclination was very little consulted in the various projects 
entertained for her marriage. In her fifteenth year her father 
wished to ally her to the Dauphin of France, but Charles the 
Second, and his council, destined her for William of Orange, 
her cousin. If we consider the description given -of William 
on his visit to London in the winter of 1670, which he spent 
there, being then nineteen years of age, we shall not wonder that 
Mary was not greatly taken with him. He was a constant suf- 
ferer from ill-health, laboring with asthma, small and weak 
of frame, and rather deformed. He was, notwithstanding this, 
always thinking of war and military exercises. Mary, on the 
contrary, was a young girl of distinguished beauty, and passion- 
ately fond of poetry. William made matters worse afterwards 
by actually refusing Mary when offered to him by Charles and 
her father, saying, insultingly, "that he was not in a condition 
to think of a wife." When, therefore, many circumstances had 
concurred to induce William seriously to wish for a marriage 
with Mary, not the least of which was her increasing prospect 
of one day wearing the crown of England, it is no wonder that 
Mary on her part should have been additionally averse to the 
match. From the evidence of contemporaries it is quite certain 
that she was very wretched at the time of her marriage, and for 
a long while afterwards. Scarcely had the marriage taken place 
when a brother was born, which cut off her direct prospect to 
the throne. William appeared much chagrined at the circum- 
stance, and could not avoid showing it. Mary's tutor, Dr. Lake, 
reports that the court noticed with indignation William's sullen- 
ness and clownishness, and his neglect of the princess. They 
spoke of him as "the Dutch Monster," and as Caliban, a name 
which the Princess Anne never forgot. 

The life of Mary at the Hague appears from various accounts 
to have been one of much restraint and dullness. She inhabited 
the beautiful house in the vicinity of the Hague, called "the 
Palace in the Wood," well known to English tourists ; a sweet 



490 THE QUEENS OF EXGLAXD. 

place, and having a fine avenue leading from the back of the 
woods that surround it, to the wild and sandy sea coast of 
Scheveling. about three miles off. This might have been a very 
pleasant residence, under agreeable circumstances, but the life 
of Mary is thus described by the French ambassador there to his 
own court. "Until now. the existence of the Princess of Orange 
has been thus regulated : from the time she rose in the morning 
till eight in the evening she never left her chamber, except in the 
summer, when she was permitted to walk about once in seven 
or eight days. Xo one had liberty to enter her room, not even 
her lady of honor, nor her maids of honor, of which she had 
but four : but she had a troop of Dutch filles dc chambre, of 
whom a detachment must every day mount guard on her. and 
have orders never to leave her." 

This but too well agrees with the account of Dr. Cowell. 
Mary's chaplain, who says that "the prince had made her his 
absolute slave : that the English attendants dare not speak to 
her. and that he thought the princess' heart was like to break." 
As the time approached that Mary must in all probability be 
called to the English throne, the gloom and distance of William 
towards Mary grew more marked and intolerable. Mary was 
sunk in grief. But at length Burnet, afterwards the celebrated 
Bishop of Salisbury, made the discovery that the cause of Wil- 
liam's reserve and acerbity was his suspicion that Mary would 
not consent to his sharing with her the regal dignity which 
was her inheritance. On Mary being made acquainted with 
this, with her wonted generosity, she immediately dispatched 
Burnet to assure him that as far as lay in her power William 
should share to the utmost the equality of the throne. On this, 
Burnet tells us, that a great change appeared instantly in Wil- 
liam's conduct towards his wife. We fear, however, that the 
conduct of William towards her for the greater part of their 
abode in Holland cannot be made to appear greatly to his honor. 
He is accused of being far from correct in his behavior towards 
one of the Miss Yilliers, maids of honor to Mary, and yet to 
have kept them about her person : which, with his constant plot- 
tings for the usurpation of her father's throne, cannot be recon- 
ciled with that honor which we would fain recognize in the hero 
of the Revolution of 1688. 

The queen landed at Gravesend the 12th of February. 1688, 
and was received with great enthusiasm : orange blossoms being 
borne before her. and young damsels scattering flowers in her 
path. The contest with James the Second, her father, soon 



MARY THE SECOND. 491 

called William, her husband, to Ireland; and on this occasion; 
and also in those of his numerous visits to Holland in prosecu- 
tion of his perpetual wars. Mary was left in full care and dis- 
charge of the government — a trust which she executed with a 
wisdom and ability which have found the amplest acknowledg- 
ments even from the most zealous detractors, and the most bit- 
ter enemies of this queen. She reigned alone the chief part 
of the six years she was Queen of Great Britain. William the 
Third, with the exception of the first year of his election to 
the throne of the British Empire, was seldom resident more 
than four months together in England. 

Of the want of affection in Queen Mary towards her father 
and her sister Anne, her peculiar position furnished only too 
easy a charge. She was called on by the British people to super- 
sede an infatuated father, who was resolved to sacrifice all the 
rights and liberties of English subjects to his fanatic devotion 
to popery. For such supersedence there was no alternative. Her 
duty to the British people as well as her attachment to protest- 
antism called upon her to perform the ungracious act of ascend- 
ing the throne which had been, but was, by the fiat of the nation, 
no longer her father's. Whether Mary did all that it was pos- 
sible for her to do to lessen the charge of filial ingratitude, we 
will not undertake to determine. But it must be recollected 
that she had a difficult part to act. The nation and the very 
throne were surrounded by the partisans and emissaries of the 
old dynasty. The claims of James and of arbitrary power were 
supported by France : Ireland and the highlands of Scotland 
were wholly devoted to the banished king : and a great amount 
of English subjects were equally ready to embrace the cause of 
his son, though averse to himself. The very ministers of the 
crown, with whom Mary was left for the greater portion of her 
time to govern alone, were confessedly, by the very historians 
who blame her, secretly traitors at heart. Added to this, Wil- 
liam was excessively jealous of his prerogative, and Mary was 
a most devoted wife, willingly sacrificing her own rights to the 
will and assumptions of her husband. When these circum- 
stances are thrown into the account, and the well-known fact is 
borne in mind that in matters of such real and intense interest 
as the succession to thrones, private and domestic feelings are 
universally sacrificed, we may safely regard much of the charge 
of unfilial feeling as the only too pleasing allegation of her 
enemies. It is clear that she was by no means destitute of affec- 
tion, for her whole life as well as existing documents bear proof 



492 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 






that she married William with unconcealed aversion ; she grew 
to entertain the most ardent conjugal attachment to him ; so 
much so as that she resisted all attempts to make her the Queen 
of England independent of him. To his pleasure she sacrificed 
her hereditary claim to the throne, and though admitted to an 
equal share of it, yet, even while governing in her husband's 
absence, she never opened parliament in person, nor did she 
even accompany William on any such occasion when he was 
at home. That this was in submission to his known prejudices, 
is clear from the fact, that William himself on returning to Eng- 
land, and thanking parliament for its good government in his 
absence, never, on any occasion, mentions his queen by name, 
as he ought to have done, and with praises for her able manage- 
ment — an omission so strange that parliament felt bound to 
thank the queen itself by special address. 

As regards her sister Anne, the same causes produced the 
same eventual alienation between that princess and Mary. The 
first ground of quarrel was William's parsimonious attempt to 
withhold the 50,000/. per annum settled by the government on 
Anne. King William, with a civil list of 600,000/. per annum, 
was still always in need. His constant wars drained the British 
treasury, and at the same time he was surrounded by a host of 
people who were scrambling for all possible places, grants, and 
perquisites. The Whig nobility by whom he had been brought 
in showed themselves rapacious beyond all example, and Wil- 
liam's position was too critical to refuse them. They soon con- 
trived to load themselves with the crown lands ; and besides the 
enormous grants which William conferred on his Dutch fol- 
lowers he found the English nobility absolutely insatiable. 

Oppressed, therefore, by the demands of his Dutch wars, and 
those demands at times, which, if not gratified, would soon have 
sent off the disappointed nobles to James again, William was 
not only compelled to commence that system of forestalling the 
revenue by loans, which had grown into the national debt, but 
he sought to cut down expenditures in every quarter that he 
could. He tried this plan upon the Princess Anne, but only with 
the result of a deadly opposition to himself and his queen, who 
most heartily supported him in all such measures, from Anne 
and her partisans and dependents. At the head of these were 
Lord and Lady Marlborough, who were not only extremely 
ready for all that they could get, but were in treasonable cor- 
respondence with the court of the deposed monarch. These 



MARY THE SECOND. 493 

circumstances caused William and Mary not only to dismiss 
Marlborough from his office at court, but also to forbid the ap- 
pearance of Lady Marlborough there, and moreover to com- 
mand Anne to dismiss them from her service. Anne, who up 
to a late period of her life was, as is well known, completely 
bewitched with the Marlboroughs, refused to comply, and 
hence the permanent coldness which took place between Mary 
and her sister. 

It was perhaps inevitable that, under the circumstances, those 
unhappy alienations and heartburnings which too generally at- 
tend royalty, should have been no strangers to the court of 
William and Mary. But with all -William's faults, his steady 
regard for the liberties of the nation entitle him to a high place 
in the regard of England ; and with all Mary's faults, her wise 
and strong government— her steady attachment to Protestant- 
ism, Stuart as she was— and her conjugal affection and pro- 
priety under many mortifications— mark her as one of the most 
estimable and distinguished sovereigns that ever sat on the 
British throne. 

Her anxiety for the decorum of religion in one instance 
betrayed her into a measure which reminds us of some enact- 
ments urgently demanded by a religious section of the com- 
munity at this moment, who may draw some idea from the 
success of Oueen Marv in such legislation of what would be 
the result of their aim if brought to a similar trial. "At an 
early period of her regnal labors," says Miss Strickland, "the 
queen requested her council to assist her in framing regula- 
tions for the better observance of the Sabbath. All hackney 
carriages and horses were forbidden to work on that day, or 
their drivers to ply for customers. The humanity, however, 
of this regulation was neutralized by the absurdity of other 
acts She had constables stationed at the corners of streets, 
who were charged to capture all puddings and pies on their 
progress to bakers' ovens on Sundays, and such ridiculous 
scenes in the streets took place, in consequence of the owners 
fighting fiercely for their dinners, that the laws were suspended 
amid universal laughter." 

Mary's chief pleasures, and almost her only sources ot 
expenditure during her husband's continual and long absences, 
were building palaces and laying out gardens. Under her 
superintendence chiefly arose Kensington Palace ; and the new 
portion of Hampton "Court, with the garden there, is still 



494 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

called by her name. To her care is due, too, that the 
greater part of Greenwich Palace was not swept away by her 
husband to make way for some Dutch erection ; and to her a 
benevolence that will do her eternal honor — the conversion of 
that palace into a hospital for invalid or superannuated sea- 
men. 

Although Mary has not been honored with a portrait in 
this volume, she certainly was entitled to hold a place amongst 
the royal beauties of England, being tall in person, majestic 
and graceful in mien, having a serene countenance, a ruddy 
complexion and beautiful features. Both mental and personal 
accomplishments she possessed in a very high degree. Mary's 
love of reading was very great, though she experienced much 
annoyance from the painful drawback she found to this in the 
continual humor in her eyes, from which she was a sufferer, 
as was also her sister, the Princess Anne, and Anne's only 
child which survived for any length of time, the Duke of 
Gloucester. Poetry was Mary's chief delight, of which she 
was esteemed a good judge, and she also particularly liked the 
study of history, as presenting her with models for imitation. 
Nor "was this queen desirous only of her own improvement; 
she very often caused good books to be placed in the way of 
her attendants, that when they took their turn in waiting their 
time might not be idly spent. Queen Mary was a kind mis- 
tress to her servants, and testified a sincere desire not only to 
reform manners generally, but to confer benefits on those 
around her. Some of her own leisure, as before said, she 
devoted to architecture, which was one of her favorite pur- 
suits, her love of which she was accustomed to vindicate on 
the ground that it employed so many hands. She was a gra- 
cious queen, one of the most obliging of wives, she protected 
the arts and was a mother to the distressed ; her charities 
being ever unostentatious ; in short, the character of Mary 
presents a pattern of every virtue that could adorn a woman. 

To Mary the nation owes a debt of eternal gratitude ; for, 
through her wisdom and disinterestedness, combined with her 
respect and affection for her husband, the revolution of 1688 
was completed and the British Constitution placed forever 
on its present true and immovable basis. The daughter of the 
king who, more than all other monarchs, had endeavored to 
destroy the rights of this kingdom, she at once admitted the 
plea of William that he ought not to consent to accept the 



MARY THE SECOND. 495 

crown as the hereditary right of his wife, but as the gift of 
the nation. Thus, by a daughter of the most bigoted and 
despotic prince who ever sat on the throne of these realms, 
the mischievous sophism of the divine right of kings was at 
once and forever annihilated, and the "Bill of Rights" estab- 
lished on the grand truth that "all power proceeds from the 
people." To this quiet and yet complete revolution, so far, 
both in theory and in time, in advance of all other revolutions, 
England owes its long course of unexampled power and glory. 
To the regret of her subjects, this amiable queen expired 
December 28th, 1695, at Kensington, of the smallpox, being 
at the - time of her death in the thirty-third year of her age. 
King William was so deeply affected by her loss that for 
many weeks after he could neither attend to affairs of state 
nor receive the visits of his nobility ; and in answer to Tenni- 
son, who sought to console him under his affliction, he 
remarked that 'iie could not but grieve, since he had lost a 
wife who for seventeen years had never been guilty of an 
indiscretion." 



ANNE. 

Anne was born of the same parents as Mar}' the Second, 
on the 6th of February, 1665, at St. James' Palace, and resem- 
bled from childhood, in features and person, the family of her 
mother Ann Hyde, rather than the Stuarts. She was bur 
six vears old when her mother died, and two years after her 
father, then Duke of York, introduced to her Mary Beatrice, 
of Modena, as her stepmother. 

While yet quite a child Anne was taught by the celebrated 
Mrs. Betterton the art of that graceful delivery for which she 
was, as queen, so much distinguished in her speeches before 
parliament. She had, besides, much taste for music and played 
well on the guitar. But, partly owing to a defluxion which 
had fallen upon her eyes, her early education was much neg- 
lected. Her faults of spelling are frequent in all her letters 
extant, and she acquired early a taste for the card table and 
minute points of etiquette instead of having her attention 
directed to the cultivation of those personal talents which 
marked her sister's career. Nevertheless, she inherited many 
counterbalancing qualities, which eventually won for her from 
her subjects the lasting name of "the good Queen Anne." 

The hereditary Prince of Hanover, afterwards George the 
First, was, in 1680, a suitor for the hand of the Princess Anne. 
She married, however, on the 28th of July, 1683, George, 
brother of Christian the Fifth. King of Denmark. He was a 
very amiable man and affectionate husband, of moderate abili- 
ties and a somewhat retiring disposition. 

Anne was, beyond a doubt, ambitious and vain. It is impos- 
sible to acquit her, as princess, of much want of affection 
toward her father. All the fondness which he used to lavish 
upon Mary before her marriage became centered in Anne from 
that time. He made her a very handsome provision on ascend- 
ing the throne, yet in 1688 she is found secretly corresponding 

496 



ANNE. 497 

with William and Mary in their intrigues for the British 
throne, and it was with her that the report originated in the 
same year of the spurious origin of the new-born prince, who 
was afterward generally designated the Pretender. When the 
crisis of the great political revolution arrived Anne made her 
escape by night from her residence at the Cockpit at White- 
hall, during the absence of King James with the army. He 
had confided in her to the last, without the remotest suspicion 
of her hostile intentions. She proceeded to Nottingham, 
headed a large body of troops and openly espoused the cause 
of the Prince of Orange. And on the very night when her 
father was making his retreat over a rather stormy sea Anne 
of Denmark, having returned to her old quarters in London 
as if nothing unusual had happened, went to the play! Her 
zeal for the Protestant religion, in which she had been strictly 
educated, cannot palliate or account for such an unfilial and 
needless display of ingratitude. 

On the 24th of July, 1689, the Princess Anne gave birth to 
a son, who was created Duke of Gloucester. Anne had thir- 
teen children, but this was the only one that lived ; and, indeed, 
it was with difficulty that this one survived to the age of eleven, 
when, after a display of much precocity under the frequent 
ailments incidental to water on the brain, he died of an attack 
of scarlet fever. This loss was one of the keenest pangs which 
Anne suffered, for the depth of her affection as a mother has 
never been questioned. 

During the reign of William and Mary this princess was 
repeatedly at difference with them, and, instead of reaping the 
benefits which her former intrigues in their favor might have 
warranted her to expect, she found herself subjected to fre- 
quent indignities at their hands. The sisters are said to have 
been on ill terms to the last, although Anne certainly sent a 
message of reconciliation to the death-bed of Mary. It was 
notorious that William hated his sister-in-law in his heart, 
and his true feeling toward her is tolerably evinced by his 
refusal to see her when about to die. 

From the time of the Duke of Gloucester's birth Anne 
increased greatly in person, and became a martyr to frequent 
attacks of dropsy, which rendered her unable to walk. She 
x A ad recourse to cold baths and hunting. She was excessively 
fond of the latter recreation, which she pursued in a chaise 
during the summer months, according to the custom then in 



498 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

vogue. On a much later occasion, when queen, she is known 
to have driven herself forty miles during one hunt. 

The death of her son was speedily followed by that of her 
father at St. Germains ; and on the 8th of March in the follow- 
ing year, 1702, she succeeded to the British crown by the death 
of William the Third. Just previously a struggle had com- 
menced between France and Austria for the throne of Spain, 
and, siding with the Austrian claimant, William had suc- 
ceeded in entailing upon his successor an inevitable European 
war, which was protracted through nearly the whole of her 
reign. 

On attaining the supreme power, the generosity of her 
character and her genuine attachment to her subjects at large 
became signally apparent. In her first speech in the House 
of Lords, in the course of which she styled herself entirely 
English, she voluntarily gave back 100,000/. of the handsome 
revenue unanimously voted to her. Her coronation took place 
on April 23, 1702. She was afflicted with gout at the time 
and was carried through some of the ceremonials in an arm- 
chair. One of the first and greatest acts of her reign was that 
which still claims the grateful remembrance of many, under 
the denomination of "Queen Anne's Bounty." The sovereign 
had a right to the first fruits of every benefice conferred by the 
crown ; but she declined to arrogate these gains to herself and 
created instead a fund therewith to augment the livings of the 
half-starved poorer clergy. 

The name of Marlborough is inseparably associated with 
the reign of Queen Anne. Its history is little else but a his- 
tory of the court intrigues of the parvenue duchess of that 
name and the brilliant successes of the military genius of that 
age, the duke. A slight sketch of their lives and characters 
is requisite for a just comprehension of the acts of this monarch. 
Sarah Jennings, from having been the playmate of Anne in 
infancy, became the favorite companion of her youth, and 
after her marriage with Colonel Churchill was regularly 
attached to the household of the princess. The secret corre- 
spondence which Anne carried on with Mary in Holland, and 
the subsequent intrigues by which she aided the downfall of 
her father, were not merely advised upon with Sarah Churchill, 
but in great measure instigated by her. Thus she fell into a 
dangerous dependence upon the confidence of her favorite, 
and when, soon after the succession of William and Mary, the 



ANNE. 499 

Earl of Marlborough was suspected of treason, and Mary 
desired her to harbor them no longer about her person, the 
pertinacity of Anne's refusal may be well understood. She 
had believed in their disinterested friendship for her until 
after the period of her sister's decease, but between that date 
and her own accession it is certain that her mind underwent a 
change concerning the character and professions of Sarah of 
Marlborough. To displace the Marlboroughs, however, might 
endanger her peace, perhaps her throne, by causing an expos- 
ure of all her early confidential communications with the favor- 
ite. In this dilemma Queen Anne discerned that, by over- 
whelming them with honors and emoluments, she should pur- 
chase their solence for their own sakes, and so disembarrass 
herself of them with ease. Thus the narrow-minded selfish- 
ness, the vulgar violence and the incessant peculations of this 
woman were directly rewarded. The earl was created duke, 
and toward the end of 1704 their family junta, as it was called, 
held all the principal offices in the government and the queen's 
household. The sanguinary victories of Blenheim, Ramilies, 
Oudenarde and Malplaquet won them showers of royal pres- 
ents, amongst which were the palace of Woodstock and the 
site of Marlborough house, besides large votes of money 
from parliament. At a period when the Marlboroughs were 
possessed of 90,000/., her majesty was obliged to borrow 
20/ of one of her ladies for a private purpose — to such utter 
penury had the Keeper of the Privy Purse and Mistress of the 
Robes, the duchess, reduced her. It was no marvel that about 
the same time the domestic tyrant should have presumed to 
taunt Anne with "the hereditary obstinacy of her family," 
and to tell her "not to answer her!" But the cruelty of these 
foreign wars and the unbounded ambition which the duke 
began to exhibit were perhaps more horrible in the sight of 
the queen and more immediately the causes of the expulsion 
of the family junta from office than all the exuberant insolence 
of the duchess. At Malplaquet twenty thousand men are said 
to have been killed on the English side alone ; and so elated 
was the general, that he insidiously demanded of the queen to 
make him "Captain-General for life, as the war would last 
probably for ever!" , 

The Prince of Denmark died on October 28, 1708, leaving her 
to reign alone; for, though he had declined any share in the 
regal power, his private counsels were doubtless often sought 



500 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

and followed. His influence is said to have maintained the 
Marlborough faction for some years longer than Anne desired. 
Her grief for his loss was intense : it was very long ere she was 
sufficiently recovered to attend to public matters. Her first 
solace then was to rid herself of her enemies : and so effectually 
did she apply herself to the task, that in the course of one year, 
1 710, she freed herself of every member of the Marlborough 
family. 

The memorable Treaty of Union between England and Scot- 
land is perhaps the most important event of the queen's reign. 
It is notorious that this was one of her most fervent aspirations, 
and that she effected it in the year 1707, in direct opposition to 
the Marlborough clique. The Treaty of Peace with France, 
toward which she had so long and anxiously labored, was finally 
completed on January 18, 1712. The efforts of the party which 
then surrounded her seem to have been directed toward estab- 
lishing the claims of the young Pretender, James, to the succes- 
sion ; but his religious opinions were as insuperable an objection 
to the Protestant Anne, as to the nation at large. There seems 
no doubt that, but for this circumstance, she would have gladly 
seconded his views. 

In the autumn of 1713, Anne grew so unwieldy, that she was 
habitually let down through the ceiling at Windsor Castle, and 
placed in a carriage by a machine prepared for the purpose ! 
From this time her health declined until July 29, 17 14, when 
she was seized by an abscess, which proved fatal on the 1st of 
August following, in the fiftieth year of her life, and fourteenth 
of her reign. 

Since the reign of Elizabeth there had been none so brilliant 
and prosperous as that of Anne. It is singular that under 
queens regnant England has almost invariably risen remarkably 
in power, consequence, and reputation. Mary's short reign of 
five years was the exception. But around Elizabeth stood a 
galaxy of the ablest statesmen, and most illustrious men of 
genius which had ever cast a glory on England. Shake- 
speare, Spenser. Sidney, Bacon, and Raleigh are the names in 
literature, which still diffuse their splendor around that epoch. 
Drake and Raleigh, in that department too, Frobisher, Haw- 
kins, and Lord Howard of Effingham, by the destruction of the 
Armada, and the splendor of their discoveries in various reg- 
ions, raised the name and power of England far bevond any 
former achievements of her commanders, while Burleigh and 
Walsingham, though cold and unscrupulous in their political 



AXXE. 501 

temperaments, impressed on the world a deep sense of the Brit- 
ish national vigor. 

Such again was the ease under Queen Anne. The victories 
of Marlborough and of Lord Peterborough on the continent, 
the administrations of Sunderland, Godolphin, Harley, and Bol- 
ingbroke at home, and the number and splendor of the literary 
and scientific men who flourished during her reign of only 
twelve years, elevate it so far above those which preceded and 
succeeded it, that it stands aloft, an object of national distinc- 
tion, meeting with no points of comparison between Elizabeth's 
reign on the one hand, and others which followed. 

Anne assumed the throne with a full determination to pursue 
with all energy the policy of William the Third for reducing the 
power of France on the continent. She made alliances with 
Holland and Germany ; and her general, Lord Marlborough, 
placed at the head of the combined armies, achieved a series 
of victories so great and so ruinous to the power and reputation 
of France, that even Crecy and Agincourt grew dim before 
them. Blenheim, Ramilies, Oudenarde, and Malplaquet are 
names that still testify to the military genius of England under 
Queen Anne, though the envy of the Tory faction robbed the 
Whigs and the country by the treaty of Utrecht of any really 
solid advantage from these dazzling, but costly and sanguinary, 
achievements. By the simple fact of a change of ministry, Louis 
the Fourteenth was rescued from the depth of humiliation and 
from the danger of actual invasion by Marlborough and Prince 
Eugene, and the Whig triumphs were resolved into a mere fact 
of military fame. That fame, however, existed and remained 
casting, its protecting influence over England long after Anne 
had ceased to exist. 

In Spain the extraordinary victories of Lord Peterborough 
had given equal evidence of the warlike genius of this country ; 
and had not political faction here again operated, and effected 
his recall, that age might have seen what a later has witnessed 
— the allied armies of England and Germany advancing upon 
France from two opposite quarters and entering Paris in 
triumph. As it was. no nation of that epoch won such military 
renown : and the domestic felicity of Anne was marked by the 
accomplishment of a victory as grand, as difficult, and immense- 
ly more conducive to the prosperity and ultimate fame of the 
nation. — The Union of Exglaxd axd Scotlaxd. Had Anne 
left no result of her rule but that, she would deserve the ever- 
lasting: gratitude of the nation. It is onlv bv referring: to the 



502 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

records of the time that we can form any conception of the 
enormous difficulties, in the shape of national prejudices and 
fancied interests on both sides, which had to be grappled with 
and overcome. It is only by comparing the England and Scot- 
land of today, with the England and Scotland before that benefi- 
cent event, that one can comprehend the solid strength and 
blessings which have flowed from it. 

But besides and beyond the prestige of Anne's reign from 
these sources stands that of its literary and philosophic pre- 
eminence. It is true that the reign of Anne included no Shake- 
speare, like that of her great female predecessor, but it possessed 
Newton, Wren, ar.d Locke ; and, in the multitude and variety 
of talent, far exceeeded the time of Elizabeth. The number of 
celebrated men who lived in this reign, though many of them, 
owing to its shortness, did not belong exclusively to it, is extra- 
ordinary. In art, Hogarth, though not yet known, was prose- 
cuting his studies. In architecture, Wren and Vanbrugh were 
in their full fame. Wren completed his grand work, St. Paul's, 
which he had begun under Charles the Second, in 1710, the 
eighth year of Anne ; and Vanbrugh was engaged in his great 
masterpieces of Blenheim and Castle Howard. In the last year 
of her reign he was knighted for hjs achievements in art, as Sir 
Isaac Newton had been early in that reign for his astonishing 
discoveries in scientific philosophy. In dramatic art there were 
Congreve, Vanbrugh, Colley Cibber, Wycherley and Gay. In 
philosophy, scientific and moral, besides Newton, there were 
Locke, Burnet (the author of "The Theory of the Earth"), Sir 
William Temple, Bolingbroke, and Flamstead the astronomer, 
to whose "true and apparent diameters of all the planets" New- 
ton was greatly indebted. 

In poetry, criticism, and general literature, such an assembly 
of distinguished men were before the public as had not been 
witnessed in any former age. Pope, Swift, Arbuthnot, 
Prior, Gay, Allan Ramsey, Addison, Steele, and Defoe, 
with his inimitable "Robinson Crusoe," and many lesser lumin- 
aries, conferred on Anne's reign the title of the Augustan age of 
England. It was then that the periodical literature of England, 
now grown into so vast and powerful an organ of civilization 
and social pleasure, was commenced by Addison and Steele in 
the "Tatler," "Spectator" and "Guardian ;" — all originated in 
this reign. And, finally, the church and dissent produced some 
of their most distinguished preachers and writers in Bishops 
Atterbury, Hoadlv, Burnet and Dr. South and Edmund Cal- 



ANNE. 503 

amy the younger. Altogether, the reign of Anne was truly one 
of the most illustrious which that country has enjoyed. If she 
herself was not particularly distinguished for her attachment to 
art and literature, she yet was far more so than those who for 
generations succeeded her ; and the circumstances of her reign 
were obviously favorable to the development of talent. In it 
Vanbrugh and Newton, as we have stated, were knighted; Bol- 
ingbroke, the philosopher, was minister ; Prior, ambassador ; 
Addison, under-secretary of state ; and Steele, commissioner of 
stamps. 

Anne was a careful patroness of the establishment of Green- 
wich Hospital ; and her love of flowers impelled her to improve 
Kensington Gardens signally. Her humanity to deserters and 
to prisoners, and her lively solicitude for all classes of her sub- 
jects, caused an unusual anxiety cmong the people at large dur- 
ing her last illness, and rendered the mourning for her loss sin- 
cere and profound. 



CAROLINE WILHELMINA OF 
ANSPACH, 

CONSORT OF GEORGE THE SECOND. 

Caroline Wilhelmina was the daughter of the Margrace 
of Anspach, and was born in 1683. She lost her father when 
very young, and her mother, a princess of the house of Saxe 
Eisenach, marrying afterward the Elector of Saxony, the young 
Caroline was confided to the guardianship of Frederick of 
Brandenburg, subsequently King of Prussia, and thus derived 
the inestimable advantage of receiving her education under the 
superintendence of her aunt, his wife, the accomplished Sophia 
Charlotte, sister of George the First. No less amiable than in- 
tellectually gifted, the Queen of Prussia was honored and be- 
loved for her patronage of literature, science and art ; and her 
death, when only thirty-seven, was universally lamented. This 
melancholy event occurred in 1705, the same year in which her 
niece Caroline gave her hand to George, then Electoral Prince 
of Hanover. 

Caroline was distinguished by an earnest integrity of purpose, 
above and beyond the standard of her day: her rejection of the 
hand of Charles, son of Leopold the First, was honorable to her 
principles, whether it proceeded from personal indifference, or 
was, as it was considered, a striking proof of her adherence to 
the Protestant faith. 

There is no doubt the Electoral Prince was as truly and 
warmly attached to his bride as it was possible for a nature es- 
sentially coarse and phlegmatic to be; and abundant evidence 
also proves that his affection increased with years, as did her 
influence over his mind and actions. Caroline must have been 
eminently discreet in her conduct, or she could not have steered 
her difficult course as she did through the different cabals which 
began early in her married life. Long before the accession of 
George the First, the misunderstanding between him and his 

504 



CAROLINE WILHELMINA OF ANSPACH. 505 

son took place ; originating probably from several causes, not 
the least being that the Electoral Prince doted on his mother, 
the unfortunate, and, there is every reason to believe, cruelly 
maligned Sophia of Zell. The discovery of the assassination 
of Count Konigsmark, which took place certainly by the order, 
and it is even said in the presence of, George the First, was 
made in after years, and to Caroline only were the details oi 
the murder, and of the finding of the body, made known by 
her husband. It was indeed a dreadful secret, which the most 
unloving son might well desire to keep. By his mother, too, 
George the First seemed to be scarcely more warmly regarded 
than by his son ; while the evident partiality of the Electress 
Sophia for her grandson was another cause of jealousy and 
estrangement between him and his father. 

On the accession of the latter to the throne of England, they 
came over together in apparent harmony ; but the fire of their 
old feuds was by no means extinguished, and burst out again 
more violently than ever. The flame was fanned by the parti- 
san spirit to which it gave birth ; one party voting a separate 
revenue of a hundred thousand a year to be settled on the 
Prince of Wales, and the other negativing it with equal fervor. 
While absent in Hanover, the king was in a measure compelled 
to cede the reins of government to the heir apparent, but he 
did it with ungracious reluctance ; and, instead of bestowing 
on him the expected and customary title of Regent, appointed 
him "Guardian of the Realm and Lieutenant." During all this 
"stormy weather," the Princess of Wales seems to have main- 
tained the respect, if she never won the regard, of her very un- 
lovable father-in-law. Indeed, he seems to have hated her 
rather more than he hated his son ; and the manner in which 
he used to speak of her as cette diablesse Madame la Princesse, 
was characteristic of the man and of his feelings. 

We must return, however, to earlier days, before Caroline 
was queen ; and among her household were two ladies who re- 
quire an especial introduction — Mrs. Clayton, afterwards Vis- 
countess Sundon ; and Mrs. Howard, afterward Countess of 
Suffolk. 

Charlotte Clayton — whose maiden name was Dyves — must 
have sprung from an obscure or perhaps humble family, since 
little or nothing is known of her until after her marriage with 
Mr. Clayton, a clerk in the Treasury. From the letters of 
several of her relations, of whose fortunes she never lost sight 
during the days of her own power and prosperity, it is evident 
they were in narrow, if not indigent circumstances. Yet in 



506 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

some sort she was a protegee of the Duchess of Marlborough — 
who, with the example of Abigail Hill's insolence and ingrati- 
tude before her, was ever ready to rail at a low-born adven- 
turess — for it was through the intercession of her Grace that 
Mrs. Clayton was appointed bedchamber woman to Caroline, 
Princess of Wales ! Caroline was far too sagacious and self- 
sustained a woman to be what is vulgarly understood as gov- 
erned by a favorite ; and in accounting for the prominent posi- 
tion Mrs. Clayton speedily assumed, the most rational conclu- 
sion is, that the princess and she were bound by a tie of friend- 
ship much more honest and sincere than might be supposed 
to exist from their relative positions. It is impossible to study 
the correspondence of Lady Sundon without being struck by 
her evident congeniality of mind and character with those of 
her royal mistress ; and assuming by quick degrees the office 
of confidential secretary to the queen, it is easy to understand 
how petitioners must have felt aware that to address Mrs. 
Clayton was the surest means of reaching the royal ear. She 
must have been a kind-hearted woman, tolerant of persevering 
petitioners, and willing to help them when she could. Even 
through the mists of nauseous adulation by which she was as- 
sailed, it is easy to discover that many honest, disinterested 
recommendations were given, and that she possessed the rare 
tact which enabled her to refuse a request graciously. Cer- 
tainly, from the appointment of the humblest menial, to the pro- 
motion of a church dignitary, her good word was sought, and 
her influence had weight — even a bishop submitted his sermons 
to Mrs. Clayton before he delivered them, and altered them 
according to her suggestions. George the Second no doubt 
fancied himself a despot, but the queen and Mrs. Clayton really 
ruled the court. The deportment of Caroline, however, toward 
her husband was that of the most marked respect ; and later 
in life, when afflicted with the gout, she was accustomed to take 
long walks with him as she had formerly done, although 
obliged to plunge her foot into cold water previously, as the 
only means of gaining the power of temporary activity ! 
Whether one thinks of a man who could for his own gratifica- 
tion permit such risk and suffering to be incurred by a wife of 
whom he said, "I never yet saw the woman who was worthy 
to buckle her shoe," or the resolution with which she concealed 
the sacrifice she was making, the alternative is equally amazing. 
Mrs. Howard, afterward Countess of Suffolk, was the 
daughter of Sir Henrv Hobart, and married earlv in life the 



CAROLINE WILHELMINA OF ANSPACH. 507 

Honorable Charles Howard, the third son of the Earl of Suf- 
folk. The marriage was an unhappy one; the young eouple 
soon found themselves in straitened circumstances, and prob- 
ably the annoyances which ensued added greatly to their dis- 
agreements. Mr. Howard was afflicted with a violent temper, 
and had a weak mind— a very common association ; and as his 
wife is mentioned even by those little likely to extenuate her 
faults as amiable and of "unimpeachable veracity," it is fair 
to return some other verdict than that too commonly pro- 
nounced— "faults on both sides." To quote from the Memoirs 
of Lady Sundon, already named : 

"Toward the close of Queen Anne's reign the young couple 
saw no better prospect of advancement than to repair to the 
court of Hanover, there to ingratiate themselves with the fu- 
ture sovereigns of England. So small was their income, that 
Mr. Howard being desirous of giving the Hanoverian minis- 
ters a dinner, his wife was obliged to cut off her luxuriant hair 
to pay for the expense of the entertainment. This happened 
at a time when full-bottomed wigs were worn, and twenty or 
thirtv guineas were often paid for those articles. 

"The Princess Sophia, mother of George the First, distin- 
guished Mrs. Howard with her favor ; but the attractions of 
the young English woman had no effect upon the dull percep- 
tions of George the Second until his father's accession, when 
Mrs. Howard was appointed one of the bedchamber women to 
Caroline, then Princess of Wales. 

"The Whig party being in vogue, such of the younger no- 
bility as belonged to it naturally formed the court of Caroline ; 
and the apartment of the bedchamber women in waiting be- 
came the place of assembly for all the wits and beauties of that 
faction. * * * In the chamber of Mrs. Howard all was 
gayety and thoughtless flirtation of that period. While the 
Princess Caroline and Mrs. Clayton were discussing theological 
tenets with a freedom which drew upon them from Swift the 
odium of being 'free thinkers,' Mrs. Howard was perfecting 
her manners and character to become the complete courtier. 

"On the accession of George the Second to the throne, it was 
her influence which retained Sir Robert Walpole in office. 
The king had inclined toward Sir Spencer Compton, "who, so 
far from meditating to supplant the premier, had recourse to 
Sir Robert, and besought him to prepare the draught of the 
king's speech. The new queen, a better judge than her hus- 
band of the capacities of the two candidates, and who had 



5o8 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

silently watched for a moment proper for overturning the new 
designations, did not lose a moment in observing to the king 
'how prejudicial it would be to his affairs to prefer to the 
minister in possession a man in whose own judgment his pre- 
decessor was the fittest person to execute his office.' " 

The queen also took another early opportunity of declaring 
her sentiments. Horace Walpole says — "Their majesties had 
removed from Richmond to their temporary residence in Lei- 
cester Fields on the very evening of their receiving notice of 
their accession to the crown, and the next day all the nobility 
and gentry in town crowded to kiss their hands, my mother 
among the rest, who, Sir Spencer Compton's designation, and 
not its evaporation being known, could not make her way be- 
tween the scornful backs and elbows of her late devotees, nor 
could approach nearer. to the queen than the third or fourth 
row; but no sooner was she descried by her majesty, than the 
queen said aloud, 'There I am sure I see a friend !' The tor- 
rent divided, and shrunk to either side ; and as I came away, 
said my mother, T might have walked over their heads if I had 
pleased.' " 

It may be that the penetration of Walpole early discovered 
that influence really lay with the queen, and that he paid his 
court accordingly ; or some more honorable feeling may have 
originated the cordiality between them. Caroline appears to 
have taken great pleasure in the society of Sir Robert and Lady 
Walpole, and frequently dined at their house at Chelsea. On 
these occasions, however, the rigor of etiquette was main- 
tained. Sir Robert did not sit down to table with his royal 
guest, but "stood behind her chair, and gave her the first plate, 
and then retired himself to a separate table." Lady Walpole 
took her seat at table in company with the lady in waiting ; 
but when we call to mind that in those days it was esteemed the - 
indispensable duty of a hostess to carve, the exception in her 
favor may perhaps be explained ! 

Caroline had been esteemed handsome in her youth ; but her 
beauty was subsequently marred by that pitiless scourge, the 
small-pox, and later in life an exceeding stoutness destroyed 
the symmetry of her figure. Her hand and arm were greatly 
admired for their whiteness and beauty of form, and her counte- 
nance is reported to have had that best beauty, the beauty of 
expression. A poet has lauded her smile as "celestial." She 
must have been a good conversationist, possessing the rare and 
delicate tact of adapting her discourse to the character and 



CAROLINE WILHELMINA OF ANSPACH. 509 

acquirements of those she addressed. At her toilette "learned 
men and divines were intermixed with courtiers and ladies of the 
household, and the conversation turned on metaphysical sub- 
jects, blended with repartees and sallies of mirth, and the tittle- 
tattle of a drawing room.'' She corresponded with Leibnitz, 
and delighted in abstract science, about which and theology 
she and Mrs. Clayton, it is said, "puzzled" themselves. 

Caroline was the friend and patroness of many celebrated 
divines and men of learning. Sir Walter Scott has invested her 
with an immortal interest by his celebrated introduction of 
Jenny Deans to her as a supplicant for the life of her sister. 
Her intercession saved the life of the unfortunate Richard 
Savage, when condemned to death for the life he took in a 
tavern brawl ; and she settled an annuity of fifty pounds upon 
him, which, however, was withdrawn after her death. 

This closing scene took place on the 20th of November, 1737. 
The queen had suffered for years from a painful and dan- 
gerous disease, unwisely concealing her calamity from her 
physicians, who, had they known the truth, might have alle- 
viated her anguish. It is difficult to reconcile with her general 
behavior her refusal to see Frederick, Prince of Wales, on her 
death-bed. In his youth she had shielded him on many occa- 
sions from the anger of his father ; and in later years it is re- 
markable that, while his letters to the king were full of all the 
deferential expressions due to majesty, those to the queen 
abounded in the simpler words "madame" and "vous" — a fa- 
miliarity that seems to tell of freedom and affection between 
them rather than of want of respect. Nevertheless, she refused 
him admission on that last awful occasion, though she sent 
him her blessing and forgiveness. Perhaps the mind of the 
poor queen — helpless and suffering in the last dread hour as 
the meanest of her subjects — wandered in its judgment. Cer- 
tain it is, also, that she died without receiving the last sacra- 
ment. Whether confused by her controversial readings, she 
hesitated, or whether Archbishop Potter desired her personal 
reconciliation with the prince her son, is not known ; but the 
prelate had a wily answer ready to meet all questioners. When 
a crowd eagerly asked, "Has the queen communicated?" he re- 
plied, evading a direct denial, "Her majesty is in a most heav- 
enly disposition !" 



SOPHIA CHARLOTTE, 

THE WIFE OF KING GEORGE THE THIRD. 

Sophia Charlotte was the youngest daughter of Charles 
Louis Frederic, son of Adolphus Frederic, the second duke of 
Mecklenburg Strelitz, and Albertine Elizabeth, daughter of 
Ernest Frederic, Duke of Saxe Hildburghausen. 

This princess was born at Mirow, in Mecklenburg, 
on the 1 6th of May, 1744. At an early age she evinced great 
mental powers ; and as they were cultivated by a very superior 
education, she became one of .the most accomplished princesses 
of Europe. She was educated with her sister, the princess, 
first at the palace of Mirow, and afterward at Strelitz, to 
which the family removed on the death of her father, the duke, 
in 175 1. 

It is believed that George the Third's choice of his illus- 
trious consort was decided by the perusal of the following let- 
ter, addressed by the Princess Charlotte to the great Frederic 
of Prussia, on his army entering the territories of his cousin, 
the Duke of Mecklenburg Schwerin : 

"May it please your Majesty, 

"I am at a loss whether I should congratulate or condole with you 
on your late victory, since the same success which has covered you 
with laurels has overspread the country of Mecklenburg with deso- 
lation. I know, sire, that it seems unbecoming my sex, in this age 
of vicious refinement, to feel for one's country, to lament the horrors 
of war, or to wish for the return of peace. I know you may think 
it more properly my province to study the arts of pleasing, or to inspect 
subjects of a more domestic nature; but. however unbecoming it may 
be in me, I cannot resist the desire of interceding for this unhappy 
people. 

"It was but a very few years ago that this territory wore the most 
pleasing appearance. The country was cultivated, the peasant looked 
cheerful, and the towns abounded with riches and festivity. What an 
alteration at present from such a charming scene ! I am not expert 
at description, nor can my fancy add any horrors to the picture; but 
surely even conquerors themselves would weep at the hideous pros- 

5 I0 



SOPHIA CHARLOTTE. 511 

peots now before me. The whole country, my dear country, Jies one 
frightful waste, presenting only objects to excite terror, pity, and despair. 
The employments of the husbandman and the shepherd are quite sus- 
pended; for the husbandman and the shepherd are become soldiers 
thmselves, and help to ravage the soil which they formerly cultivated. 
The towns are inhabited only by old men, women, and children ; 
while perhaps here and there a warrior, by wounds or loss of limbs 
rendered unfit for service, is left at his door, where his little children 
hang round him, ask the history of every wound, and grow them- 
selves soldiers before they find strength .for the field. But this were 
nothing, did we not feel the alternate insolence of either army as it 
happens to advance or retreat, in pursuing the operations of the cam- 
paign. It is impossible, indeed, to express the confusion which they 
who call themselves our friends create ; for even those from whom 
we might expect relief only oppress us with new calamities. 

"From your justice, therefore, it is, sire, that we hope redress: to 
you even children and women may complain, whose humanity stoops 
to the meanest petition and whose power is capable of repressing the 
greatest wrong." 

It is scarcely necessary to add, that such a remonstrance had 
the desired effect. 

The good feeling and noble sentiments contained in this letter 
made so deep an impression on the mind of King George, that 
he immediately caused strict inquiries to be set on foot re- 
specting the disposition and character of this lady, and the re- 
sult was a proposal for the hand of this princess. When thus 
selected as the future consort of the English monarch, the 
Princess Charlotte is described as being distinguished by every 
eminent virtue and amiable endowment. 

The Earl of Harcourt was dismissed to Strelitz to conclude 
the treaty of marriage, and accompany the princess to England. 
Some delay was occasioned in the settlement of the contract, 
owing to the sudden death of the duchess-dowager, her mother, 
which occurred before the arrival of the British ambassador. 
At length the Princess Charlotte quitted her native land amidst 
many tears and regrets ; for she was generally beloved among 
her own countrymen, who, at her departure, invented several 
pleasing devices to testify their attachment to her. 

She was graciously received by the English people on her 
landing at Harwich, and on her way to London, and was united 
to King George the Third on the 8th of September, 1761, at 
the Chapel Royal, the ceremony being performed by the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury. 

The marriage was followed by the congratulatory addresses 
of the various classes of her subjects. 

King George the Third had selected his consort more on ac- 



512 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

count of her mental qualifications than for her personal at- 
tractions. She was found to be remarkably amiable and cour- 
teous. 

At the age of eighteen, Queen Charlotte has been described 
as small in stature, having auburn hair, light blue eyes, express- 
ive of sweetness, a nose a little flattened and retrousse, rather a 
large mouth, and fine teeth. Although it could not be said she 
had a fine countenance, the expression of her features was most 
agreeable. 
• The coronation took place on the 22nd of September, 1761. 

The dower assigned to Queen Charlotte was the same as that 
bestowed upon her predecessor, Queen Caroline, being £ 100,000 
per annum, with Richmond Old Park and Somerset House. 
This last was afterward converted into public offices, and in 
lieu thereof the queen was presented with Buckingham House, 
by the king, who purchased it of Sir Charles Herbert Sheffield 
for the sum of £21,000. 

The queen applied herself with great assiduity to the study 
of the English language, in which pleasing occupation she 
passed many hours, assisted by the king, who read with her 
from the best English authors, in order to perfect her in the 
language. 

Queen Charlotte was prudent, well-informed, and very char- 
itable. She loved domestic pleasures, nor did the splendor of 
a court at any period alienate her from them ; and we really 
pardon her, when we learn, as it is said, that "she was fonder 
of diamonds than the Queen of France, and of snuff than the 
King of Prussia." She had nine sons and six daughters ; two 
of them only died in infancy. One of the most admirable points 
in Queen Charlotte's character was her personal devotion to the 
education of her young family. A lady of high rank having one 
day said to her, "My children must be doing well, for they 
have plenty of servants to attend to them," the queen ex- 
claimed, "What, do you leave them entirely to attendants? I 
dare not do so ; for it is impossible that servants however good 
can have the feelings of a parent !" The lady attempted an ex- 
cuse, but the queen interrupted her by saying, "There can be 
no apology for the neglect of our first duties : it is enough 
that you are a mother and converse with one ; and I should be 
sorry to suppose you indifferent where your sensibilities ought 
to be most acute." 

The death of his beloved daughter, the Princess Amelia, in 
1810, so deeply affected the king, that from that time he be- 



SOPHIA CHARLOTTE. 513 

came subject to those distressing aberrations of mind, which 
caused his estrangement from his family, and terminated only 
in his death, on the 29th of January, 1820. 

Queen Charlotte, who preceded her consort to the grave, 
died at Kew, on the 17th of November, and was interred in 
the chapel of St. George's at Windsor, on the 2d of December 
following. 



CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK, 

QUEEN OF GEORGE THE FOURTH. 

Of all the royal women in ancient or modern history there 
can scarcely be found one who has greater claims on the sym- 
pathy of her own sex than the ill-fated Caroline, consort of 
George the Fourth. Not that she was herself faultless or 
merely an injured woman, but because her situation as a wife 
and as a mother was more trying than any other which has 
been put on record. 

Caroline was the second daughter of Charles William 
Ferdinand, hereditary Prince of Brunswick, who succeeded to 
that dukedom when she was in the second year of her age. 
Her mother was the beautiful and accomplished Princess 
Augusta, sister of George the Third, King of Great Britain. 
The birth of Caroline took place at Brunswick, May 16th, 
1768. As a child her extraordinary health and robust consti- 
tution led her mother to make the remark, "Caroline is born 
for adversity, nothing would destroy her." Lady de Bode 
and Baroness von Minister were successively governesses to 
the royal child, who passed much of her time in the company 
of her parents, with whom she always dined, so that at quite an 
early age she was introduced into the society of the court. 
The attainments of Caroline when quite young were remark- 
able ; she acquired a great proficiency in geography, astronomy, 
and history, in which last study she especially delighted, and 
spoke with ease the German, English, French and Italian 
languages. She was a good painter in water colors, and to 
the delight of her father, with whom she was a favorite child, 
arrived at great proficiency in music, of which he was remark- 
ably fond. Thus endowed with the power of pleasing, it is no 
wonder that the princess should have afterwards cultivated 
the society of literary people. Yet she was not distinguished 
by her mental qualities only ; the goodness of her heart was 

5M 



CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 515 

testified by several charitable foundations, visits to public 
buildings, and personal attendances on the indigent and dis- 
tressed. The children of the poor would often follow her foot- 
steps in her walks amid the palace gardens, being sure of a 
kind and affectionate welcome. The peculiar love of the 
princess for children afterwards was painfully injurious to her. 

When seventeen years of age, a mutual attachment is said to 
have been formed between Caroline and a German prince of 
much reputation and merit, which, however, for reasons of 
state, and from motives of family pride was discountenanced 
as soon as discovered by the Duke of Brunswick who in this 
matter was influenced by his consort. The young prince after- 
wards fell in battle, and the princess, whose heart had been 
much affected by the intervention of the parental authority, 
was irretrievably wounded by the loss of the object of her 
attachment. The King of Prussia afterwards made overtures 
for her hand, and received a positive refusal ; so that at the 
time Caroline reached her twenty-sixth year, she was yet un-. 
married. To the great joy of the Duchess of Brunswick, in 
the year 1794, the duke, her husband, received a formal pro- 
posal from George the Third for the hand of her daughter 
Caroline : the news, however, was heard by the young princess 
with a composure amounting to indifference. Not that she was 
insensible to the honor conferred on her, in being selected as 
the bride of the heir apparent of the English throne; but she 
was already acquainted in part with some of the features of 
the character of her future royal lord. She had doubtless learnt 
that interest and ambition were the motives which induced him 
to seek her alliance. Was there not reason to despise an alliance 
with a man overwhelmed with debt, who sought only an in- 
crease of income, and whose associations with Mrs. Fitzherbert, 
the Countess of Jersey, and others, had been sufficiently notori- 
ous to reach the ears of his future consort? Add to this the 
circumstance that Caroline had buried her own affections in an. 
early tomb. If, however, the faults of the prince were known 
to Caroline, she had heard, too, of his many accomplishments, 
and accordingly yielded her consent to become the wife of the 
most finished gentleman in Europe. 

Caroline quitted Brunswick, December 30, 1794, accompanied 
by her mother and a numerous train, and followed many miles 
on her route by the acclamations of the populace and the prayers 
of the poor, that a blessing from above might attend her union. 



516 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

After Osnaburg she visited Hanover, where she passed some 
weeks at the Bishop's palace, which had been fitted up for her 
reception. 

In this interval she studied the English tongue, and made 
herself as familiarly acquainted as possible with the habits, 
manners, and customs of the people, amongst whom she was 
destined to reside. On March 28, 1795, the princess embarked 
in the Jupiter, at Cuxhaven attended by Commodore Payne, 
Mrs. Harcourt, and others, who had been sent by the Prince of 
Wales to meet her ; Lady Jersey was to have been one of the 
deputation of ladies, but had returned from Rochester under 
pretence of illness. Such an appointment, on such an oc- 
casion, has a parallel only in the introduction of Lady Castle- 
maine at court by Charles the Second, on his marriage to Queen 
Catherine of Portugal. After some few days' delay, owing to 
dense fogs, the princess passed up the Thames as far as Graves- 
end. That night was spent on board the vessel, but next day 
she landed at Greenwich Hospital, where she was received by 
the governor, Sir H. Palliser, and other officers ; and about an 
hour after, Lady Jersey arrived from town, with a dress for the 
princess which was adopted in exchange for that which she 
wore on her arrival. Shortly after the princess and all her 
party of whom, however, two German female servants alone 
had remained of those who quitted her own country with her, 
set off in three royal carriages, with a military escort, for St. 
James's Palace. Immediately on her arrival there, Caroline 
was introduced to her future husband who not only received 
her with affability and kindness, but paid her many compli- 
ments. The king, queen and other branches of the royal family 
dined with the prince and princess, when much attention was 
shown by his Majesty to his future daughter-in-law, but the 
queen seems to have evinced an opposite feeling toward her 
royal guest. 

It is said that the attention shown by the prince at this first 
interview with Caroline, had awakened the jealousy of Lady 
Jersey, who, the following day, informed the bridegroom-elect 
that the princess had confessed to her a former attachment to a 
German prince. Moreover she so artfully contrived to poison 
his mind against his intended wife, that on the very next meet- 
ing, his manner was cool and reserved, and his conduct ex- 
ceedingly altered. 

The day appointed for the solemnization of their nuptials 
was April 8, 1795, when the ceremony was performed with the 



CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 517 

utmost magnificence, at the Chapel Royal, St. James's Palace, 
the bride being led in the procession by the Dnke 6i Clarence, 
afterwards William the Fourth. It was indeed this prince's 
flattering encomiums on Caroline whom he had seen during his 
frequent visits to Brunswick, that first induced George the 
Fourth to seek her as his wife. He was told she was strikingly 
like his favorite sister Mary, which was in his opinion a realiza- 
tion of all he could desire in the qbject of his choice. On the 
day of the marriage ceremony the aged king is said to have testi- 
fied his regard for the bride by several little acts of kindness, 
greeting her in the hall with a paternal salute, while he squeezed 
the hand of the Prince of Wales so heartily as to bring tears 
into his eyes. 

On the 7th of January, 1796, the Princess of Wales gave 
birth to a daughter, at Carlton House, who was shortly after 
baptized under the name of Charlotte Augusta, the sponsors 
being their Majesties and the Duchess of Brunswick, who was 
represented by the Princess Royal. This circumstance did not, 
as might have been expected, more closely unite the affections 
of Caroline and her husband, who not long after separated from 
each other's society, and the Princess of Wales resided for some 
time at Blackheath, in the greatest seclusion. The personal dis- 
like of the queen to the princess had been obvious on her first 
arrival in the country, and through this she was almost ex- 
cluded from the court. Under this painful situation of affairs 
Caroline devoted herself to the pleasing task of directing the 
education of her little daughter, whose establishment had been 
fixed at Shrewsbury House, Blackheath, in her own immediate 
neighborhood. She was, however, only allowed the satisfaction 
of visiting her child one day in each week on which joyful oc- 
casion she was in the habit of examining her progress, and had 
the pleasure of perceiving that her own instructions had been 
strictly adhered to. 

The kindness of George the Third must have been deeply felt 
by Caroline, who experienced a continuation of his favor and 
friendship till it was interrupted by his distressing malady. 

The death of the Duke of Brunswick, her father, at the battle 
of Jena, 1806, caused the widowed duchess to return to Eng- 
land, where, on her arrival she repaired to her daughter's resi- 
dence. She was there visited by George the Third who had not 
beheld his sister for more than forty years. She was the only 
surviving princess of his family, and the meeting was painfully 
affecting on both sides. Nearly ten years had now been passed 



5i8 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

by the Princess Caroline separated from her husband, and with- 
out any accusation being made against her character or conduct. 
But this was now to have an end. There had, indeed, been secret 
inquiries on foot for as much as two years previous to the period 
we are about to enter upon, with the view of generating some 
charge against the princess, which might enable her husband 
to obtain a formal separation. It became evident that spies were 
set upon her proceedings, and a visit made by Caroline to Belve- 
dere, a seat of Lord Eardley's, merely to inspect the grounds and 
the paintings, had been seized on to furnish a charge. The 
porter of Belvedere, Jonathan Partridge was sent for by Lord 
Moira, then a great companion of the prince, and questioned as 
to her behavior, but with a result totally exculpatory of the 
princess. This might warn her that opportunity was seeking 
against her. Early in the year 1806 a secret inquiry was en- 
tered into respecting the conduct of the Princess of Wales, cer- 
tain serious charges having been brought against her by Sir 
John and Lady Douglas, but the result was again a full ac- 
quittal of the princess. It was clear that Sir John and Lady 
Douglas were stimulated to their disgraceful attempt by morti- 
fied vanity, and public resentment was strongly expressed 
against them. But the animus of the court was shown by Sir 
John Douglas receiving high military promotion. Being pub- 
licly acquitted, it was, however, matter of considerable surprise 
that on the queen's birthday Caroline did not make her appear- 
ance at court ; nevertheless, in the month of May she was intro- 
duced to the queen by the Duke of Cumberland, and received 
the congratulations of the nobility. Again, when the king en- 
tered his seventieth year, the princess appeared in public, and 
much attention was attracted by her elegant costume, the style 
of which reminded every one of Mary, Queen of Scots. 

Subsequent to this, and notwithstanding that the princess had 
been acquitted of all blame in the late investigation, and re- 
admitted to court, she was more than ever restricted in her in- 
tercourse with her daughter. Even if their carriages met, the 
coachman of the Princess Charlotte was forbidden to stop, so 
that the mother and daughter saw little of each other. To re- 
move the prohibition to their meeting, Caroline herself ad- 
dressed a forcible appeal to her husband, without, however, ob- 
taining the redress she expected. Not long after, the Princess 
Charlotte coming of age repaired to the queen's drawing-room, 
in company with her mother, it having been privately arranged 
between them that she should be presented by her. cieing in- 



CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 519 

formed on their arrival that this could not be permitted, "Either 
my mother or no one," was her spirited reply; so the presenta- 
tion did not take place. After this their meetings were more 
vigilantly interdicted than ever. The death of the Duchess of 
Brunswick, however, a circumstance painfully affecting to both 
Caroline and her daughter, led to a meeting which was this time 
at the suggestion of the Regent himself. Not long after, the 
Prince of Orange visited the English court, as suitor for the 
hand of the fair heiress of the British crown. That a match so 
much desired by all parties should have met with no favor in 
the eyes of the one to whom it was most important, was a mat- 
ter of great surprise, and it is generally thought that in this ma- 
terial point, the judgment of the young princess was guided 
by her mother, who certainly was opposed to the match. It was 
about this period that thePrincess Charlotte suddenly took the 
romantic resolution of quitting Carlton House, where she was 
residing with her father, fearing that some coercive measures 
were intended towards herself. In a common hackney coach 
she escaped to Connaught Place, her mother's residence, who, 
learning what had happened, came hastily to town from Black- 
heath and a most affecting interview took place which was fol- 
lowed by the Princess Charlotte's return to Carlton House, with 
her father's messenger, the Duke of York. 

The visit of Caroline to the Continent took place in the year 
1814, having obtained permission to return in the first instance 
to Brunswick, and after that to visit the countries of Italy and 
Greece, where she purposed making some stay, provided an 
agreeable abode could be procured for her accommodation. Fifty 
thousand pounds per annum were voted to the princess by par- 
liament, of which, however, she could only be persuaded to ac- 
cept thirty-five thousand. 

During her residence abroad, Caroline was informed of the 
marriage of her daughter with the Prince Leopold of Saxe Co- 
burg, and she was also not many months after destined to re- 
ceive the mournful tidings of the death of that beloved and 
affectionate child. In this loss, not only her own private effec- 
tions, but the hopes of the nation were blighted. 

It is impossible to particularize in this limited narrative the 
circumstances of Caroline's continental tour, during which she 
visited most of the celebrated cities in Europe and Asia and ex- 
tended her travels as far as the Holy Land. Hers, as we have 
already said, was an inquiring mind, and every fresh scene af- 
forded food for contemplation. In 1820 she was recalled to 



520 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

England by the death of her kind protector and friend, George 
the Third. In vain did his successor, George the Fourth, offer 
inducements to her to remain abroad, proposing to her an in- 
creased income if she would forego the title of queen. Im- 
mediately that the news reached her, Caroline has resolved to 
return to England, and assert her rights, and she rejected with 
indignation the proposal made by the new king. She had now 
lived apart from her husband three and twenty years, and not 
only did he refuse to acknowledge and receive her as his queen, 
but by his orders her name was erased from the Liturgy. 
Caroline, nevertheless, landed at Dover, June 5, 1820 where she 
was met by multitudes of people who were eager to make up to 
her by their tokens of loyalty and affection, for the slights she 
had endured. Throughout her progress to London, every place 
poured forth its inhabitants to meet her with a welcome, and jn 
approaching the metropolis the throngs were immense. Having 
been denied the use of Buckingham House, the queen took up 
her abode temporarily at the residence of Alderman Wood, in 
South Audley street. What a situation was this for one of royal 
descent, and queen, by right of marriage, of the first country in 
the world ! Affecting to the extreme must have been the hom- 
age of the people, the true-hearted English, who would not see 
the weaker sex injured or ill-treated without interposing in her 
behalf. Caroline received, from the sympathy of the public, 
strength to prosecute the vindication of her rights ; but of all 
men in English history, except it were Henry the Eighth, 
George the Fourth was least likely to be influenced by the ex- 
pressed disapprobation of the people. The king's dislike was 
only further increased by the popularity of the consort he 
sought to cast off, and when many persons of rank and wealth 
took the part of the queen it still further aggravated his feel- 
ings against her. 

The natural disposition of Caroline of Brunswick, independ- 
ent of her trying situation, called forth the affections of the 
English. She was generous to an extreme, but not extravagant, 
and a total absence of the pride and stateliness of rank, which 
at times is even said to have bordered on vulgarity, rendered 
her the exact opposite of her stately and ceremonious husband, 
who delighted in every ostentation of rank and power. 

It was asserted that the queen's manners abroad had not been 
so consistent with feminine propriety as was considered req- 
uisite in a woman under her peculiar circumstances, especially 
as queen of England ; and there can be little doubt but that the 




':~ l! ~ ' .' ■ ■ 



CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 521 

queen, who was of a sensitive and even hasty -disposition, re- 
sented these aspersions, and that, either as a mode of annoying 
her persecutors, or from conscious innocence, she was regard- 
less of appearances. Hence her adoption of Austin, a sail- 
maker's son, her visits to Vauxhall and masked balls, and her 
mingling familiarly with musicians and vocalists when at home. 
After she had gone abroad, it had for years been currently cir- 
culated in the upper circles that she was living improperly with 
Bergami, a courier, whom she had elevated to the dignity of 
chamberlain, and familiarly admitted to her table. To inquire 
into these facts, a commission, under the direction of Sir John 
Leach, had been dispatched to Milan in 1818. When Caroline 
had set out on her journey homeward, ministers were still led. 
by the statement of Mr. Brougham, her majesty's legal adviser, 
to hope that she would accept a settlement of £50.000 per annum 
and resign the crown. But it was found that Mr. Brougham 
had no authority for such proposition. The queen indignantly 
rejected it, and continued her journey. The persecutions which 
she had everywhere suffered, at home and abroad, seem to have 
roused her to a determination to meet and know the worst. No 
person of princely rank in England had for years been so cruelly 
pursued by the vindictive power of a husband, who was himself 
married to Mrs. Fitzherbert. and living a scandalous life with 
other ladies. The king or prince had actually put her under a 
terrible law. He had declared that he would not meet her either 
in public or in private ; and this was in itself an edict for her 
isolation from such as valued the favor of his court. All who 
looked for profit, preferment, or admission to the higher circles, 
avoided her as a pestilence. She stood alone. Such was the 
desolating effect of the regent's ban, that Caroline was ignored 
in the compliments paid to her husband by the kings of Europe. 
The conquerors of Napoleon when in England dared not visit 
her. The literary and philosophical felt the same influence, and 
obeyed it. Madame de Stael visited the prosperous and power- 
ful husband, but shunned the persecuted wife. Her life was 
converted into a living death. Such associates as would have 
been suitable to her station, and honorable to her as a woman. 
were for the most part kept from her by her position, of which 
it was ruin to partake. Once arrived, the foreign calumnies 
were gladly taken advantage of by the king, and Lord Liver- 
pool brought a bill into Parliament, July 5, 1821, to deprive 
Caroline of the right and title of queen, and to dissolve her mar- 
riage with George the Fourth. Witnesses were brought from 



522 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 






Italy both for and against her ; public and private examinations 
took place ; but, though many charges were advanced, she was 
ably defended by Mr. Brougham, Mr. Denman, and Dr. Lush- 
ington, and while the proceeding was so unpopular out of doors, 
the Lords only obtained a verdict of nine against her. There- 
fore the bill was abandoned, and in the eyes of the nation the 
queen's innocence was vindicated ; nevertheless, while no royal 
palace was granted, her name not restored to the Liturgy, and 
her head uncrowned, Caroline could not consider herself a 
queen in fact. She publicly visited St. Paul's to offer up thanks 
for her acquittal, the news of which had been received with 
every demonstration of joy by the people, and a general illumi- 
nation was kept up for several evenings in the metropolis. 

Acquitted of crime, the queen naturally expected her royal 
situation to be acknowledged ; when, therefore, orders were 
given for the coronation of her husband to take place July 19th, 
1821, she demanded as a right to be crowned at the same time. 
Her request was refused, and also her request to be present on 
the occasion. At this critical moment the indignation of the 
queen and woman outstepped the bounds of prudence, and she 
declared that, in spite of this decision, she would attend at the 
ceremony. It was not believed that, in earnest, Caroline could 
contemplate such a step as to force herself into the king's pres- 
ence at such a moment against his own commands ; yet such 
was the fact. On the morning appointed for the ceremony 
she repaired to the Abbey at an early hour in a carriage drawn 
by six horses, attended by Lord and Lady Hood and Lady 
Anne Hamilton, who were of her household, and demanded 
admittance. She was asked for her ticket; she replied, "She 
had none — and as Queen of England she needed none!" In 
vain did the first female in the land apply at this and the other 
several entrances ; she was refused at all, and compelled to 
retire amid the loud cries and shouts of the populace, which 
were heard within the walls of the sacred edifice where the 
monarch was enthroned. What a moment for Caroline! — 
within, without, what feelings must have stirred on that day! 
The popular demonstrations on the appearance of the queen 
had created a fear lest some outrage should be attempted : but 
this was groundless. The people contented themselves with 
breaking the windows of some of the ministers, and the cer- 
emony was concluded without disturbance, amid every pomp 
and pageantry which the magnificent taste of George the Fourth 
could devise. 



CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 523 

So gorgeous, indeed, was this coronation, that it would 
seem as if the king had resolved to make it as magnificent as 
possible, that he might cause the queen the more acutely to 
feel the pain of being not only refused her just participation in 
it but actually shut out from the sight of it. In an account 
of it written at the. time and attributed — and there can be no 
doubt justly — -to the author of Waverley, it is stated that the 
writer saw it with a surprise amounting to astonishment, and 
never to be forgotten. "The effect," he says, "of the scene in 
the abbey was beyond measure magnificent. Imagine long gal- 
leries stretched among the aisles of that venerable and august 
pile ! Those which rise above the altar pealing back their 
echoes to a full and magnificent choir of music. Those which 
occupied the sides filled even to crowding with all that Britain 
has of beautiful and distinguished ; and the cross gallery most 
appropriately occupied by the Westminster schoolboys, in 
their white surplices, many of whom might on that day receive 
impressions never to be lost during the rest of their lives. 
Imagine this, I say, and then add the spectacle upon the floor — 
the altars surrounded by the fathers of the church — the king 
encircled by the nobility of the land and the counselors of 
the throne, and by warriors wearing the honored marks of 
distinction, bought by many a glorious danger ; add to this 
the rich spectacle of the aisles, crowded by waving plumage, 
and coronets, and caps of honor, and the sun which bright- 
ened and gladdened as if on purpose, now beaming in full 
luster on the rich and varied assemblage, and now darting a 
solitary ray, which caught, as it passed, the glittering fold of 
a banner, or the edge of a group of battle-axes or partisans, and 
then rested full on some fair form, 'the cynosure of neighbor- 
ing eyes,' whose circlet of diamonds glittered under its influ- 
ence. 

"I cannot describe to you the effect produced by the solemn 
yet strange mixture of Scripture, with the shouts and acclama- 
tions of the assembled multitude, as they answered to the voice 
of the prelate who demanded of them whether they acknowl- 
edged as their monarch the prince who claimed the sovereignty 
of their presence. It was peculiarly delightful to see the king 
receive from the royal brethren, but in particular from the 
Duke of York, the paternal kiss, in which they acknowledged 
their sovereign. 

"The young lord of Scrivelsbye— Dymoke the Champion — 



524 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

looked and behaved extremely well. The fancy dress of the 
privy councillors of white and blue satin, with trunk-hose 
and mantles, after the fashion of Queen Elizabeth's time. Sep- 
arately, so gay a garb had an odd effect on the persons of eld- 
erly or ill-made men ; but the whole was completely harmonized 
in actual coloring, as well as in association with the general 
mass of gay, and gorgeous, and antique dress which floated 
before the eye. The box assigned to the foreign ambassadors 
presented a most brilliant effect, and was perfectly in a blaze 
of diamonds. When the sunshine lighted on Prince Esterhazy, 
in particular, he glittered like a galaxy. I cannot particularly 
learn if he had on that renowned coat which has visited all the 
courts of Europe, save ours, and is said to be worth £100,000, 
or some such trifle, and which costs the prince £100 or £200 
every time he puts it on, as he is sure to lose pearls to that 
amount. 

"The duties of service at the banquet, and of attendance in 
general, were performed by pages dressed very elegantly in 
Henri Quatre coats of scarlet, with gold lace, blue sashes, 
white silk hose and white rosettes. There were also marshals 
there for keeping order, who wore a similar dress, but of blue, 
and having white sashes. Both departments were filled up 
almost entirely by young gentlemen, many of them of the first 
condition. The foreigners were utterly astonished and de- 
lighted, and avowed that the spectacle had never been paral- 
leled in Europe. 

"There were a variety of entertainments provided for John 
Bull in the parks, the river, in the theaters, and elsewhere. Noth- 
ing was to be seen or heard but festivity and sounds of pleasure. 
It is computed that about five hundred thousand people shared 
in the festival, one way or another." 

The only person shut out from this scene of lavish magnific- 
ence was the queen ; — the only person who felt that she had 
no part in the pageantry or the joy, was the one who, equally 
with the king, had a right to be at the center and summit of 
the unrivaled national demonstration. The king had been 
defeated in his attempt before parliament to condemn, degrade, 
and divorce his unfortunate wife, but here he could take his 
revenge. If that was his desire, he succeeded most completely. 

This last blow had crushed the heart of the unfortunate 
Caroline — her spirits, which till this period had supported her 
under every trial, sunk beneath this heavy stroke of fortune. 
Her health declined, and she died on the 7th of August, 1821, 



CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 525 

in less than three weeks from the coronation, at Brandenburg 
House, in Hammersmith, being then only in the fifty-fourth 
year of her age. Her last will directed that her remains should 
be interred at Brunswick, and that her coffin should bear the 
inscription, "Here lies Car dine of Brunswick, the injured 
Queen of England." The king, who had set out a few days 
before for Ireland, received the intelligence of her death at 
Holyhead, where his yacht had bee'n detained by contrary 
winds. 

The sufferings of the woman, wife, mother, queen, were 
ended ; yet were not the remains of the ill-fated Caroline suf- 
fered to proceed in peace to their final resting place. The 
corpse of the queen was removed on the 14th of August to be 
embarked at Harwich for the Continent. Near Kensington 
Church, an immense mob which had collected endeavored to 
prevent the funeral procession from pursuing the route pre- 
scribed, and to force it to pass through the city instead of 
taking a circuit round London as had been arranged. To 
prevent its progress the pavement was torn up and trees 
placed across the road. Thus interrupted, the procession had to 
pass through Hyde Park and, endeavoring to take the Edge- 
ware-road at Cumberland Gate, the mob was so violent that a 
conflict took place and two persons lost their lives. The proces- 
sion, however, proceeded to the New Road, by the Edgeware- 
road, but at the top of Tottenham-court-road was met by such a 
concourse of people tha't it wasvforced to take the route of St. 
Gile's, Drury-lane, and Whitechapel. It afterward passed 
through Bow, Stratford, Ilford and Romford ; every demon- 
stration of respect being testified by the people at those places. 
At Chelmsford, where the corpse remained for one night, it 
was conveyed into the church, followed by the members of the 
queen's own household. At Colchester a plate was affixed to the 
coffin, pursuant to the queen's will, with an inscription dictated 
by herself. "Here lies Caroline of Brunswick, the injured 
Queen of England." But it was removed, in spite of the pro- 
testation of the executors, by the agents of government. 

In this violent and disturbed manner were the remains of 
the unfortunate Caroline transmitted to Harwich, whence they 
were conveyed to the Continent by the Glasgow frigate, Lord 
and Lady Hood, Dr. Lushington, Sergeant Wilde, with Lady 
Anne Hamilton, attending them all the way to Brunswick. At 
Cuxhaven they were transferred to the Gannet sloop-of-war, 



526 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

in which they proceeded up the Elbe to Stade, where the firing 
of guns and tolling of bells announced their arrival. At every 
place the funeral was received with respect and sympathy. At 
Zell the authorities went out to meet it, the bells tolled, soldiers 
lined the streets, and young girls strewed flowers before the 
hearse. Singularly enough, the coffin when carried into the 
great church of that city was placed on the tomb of her almost 
equally unfortunate aunt, Matilda, Queen of Denmark, sister 
of George the Third. The coffin of Caroline was finally de- 
posited at Brunswick, in the vault of her ancestors, at mid- 
night. As it passed along the aisle one hundred young ladies 
of noble birth, dressed in white, stood on each side, and scat- 
tered flowers on it. The ducal family vault was, on the melan- 
choly occasion, hung with black, and illuminated with wax 
lights. The platform was raised two feet from the ground, 
and at its side was the coffin of the celebrated Duke of 
Brunswick, while that of her gallant brother, killed at Quatre 
Bras, rested at its foot. No funeral service was performed, but 
a solemn and affecting prayer was offered up for her eternal 
welfare by the Rev. Mr. Wolf. The words, "May her released 
soul enjoy the peaceful and blissful tranquillity which this world 
cannot grant ; and may thy grace, thou all just and most righte- 
ous Lord, recompense her in that state of perfection, for what 
was deficient here on earth," must have had a painful effect on 
the hearts of all' present, who fe4t and mourned her wretched 
fate. 

The names of Alderman Wood, of Lady Anne Hamilton, Dr. 
Parr, the Rev. Robert Fellowes, and others, who by their atten- 
tions and loyalty softened the bitterness of woe, and whose 
fidelity survived the tomb of their beloved queen and mistress, 
is written on a page of England's history, never to be erased; 
while the sufferings and sorrows of Caroline of Brunswick 
remain deeply imprinted on the hearts of the feeling and 
sympathizing English public. 



ADELAIDE. 

It was a part of her nature to avoid ostentation ; but 
while we have only the land-marks of general history 
to assist us in pointing out her career of charity and 
humility, it is at least satisfactory to observe, that all 
classes of her subjects have testified their approval of 
their Queen Consort, and their respect for their Queen 
Dowager. Hers was a life, however, singularly barren of the 
multifarious accidents and adventures which befel so many of 
her predecessors on the English throne ; her destiny seems to 
have been cast according to the quiet, religious bent of her 
mind, and the strict morality of her retiring disposition. 

She was the eldest daughter of the Duke and Duchess of 
Meiningen, one of the small states of the German Empire, and 
was born August 13, 1792. She had a sister two years younger 
than herself named Ida, and a brother eight years her junior, 
named Bernard Henry, who succeeded to the dukedom, Ade- 
laide was but eleven years old at the death of her father, which 
left her mother regent and sole guardian over her childhood. 
To her early lessons was owing, doubtless, that secluded and 
pious character which the queen bore through life, for she 
was educated in the strictest privacy, and with a profound 
regard for religious observances. Adelaide early displayed 
this sedate disposition, by avoiding even the ordinary amuse- 
ments adapted to her youth. Her benevolence shone forth, too, 
at the same early period, in her co-operation with her sister 
in the establishment of schools for the poor, and in the relief 
of the infirm and needy. The exercise of these virtues reached 
the ears of Queen Charlotte of England, who recommended her 
as a fitting companion for her third son William Henry, Duke 
of Clarence. A correspondence was accordingly entered upon 
between the two courts, which terminated in the arrival in Eng- 
land of the Duchess of Meiningen with her daughter, and. 

527 



528 - THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

the marriage at Kew on July 13, 1818, of the Duke of Clarence 
with Princess Adelaide. The Duke and Duchess of Kent 
were re-married at the same time, the service being performed 
in the queen's drawing room, where an altar had been erected 
for the occasion, the Prince Regent giving away both the 
brides. They took possession of Clarence House, and shortly 
after proceeded to the Continent, having previously bid a last 
farewell to the aged Queen Charlotte, who died in the follow- 
ing November. 

The ensuing winter and spring were spent with the Duke 
and Duchess of Cambridge at Hanover. Prince George of 
Cambridge was born there on the 26th of March, and on the 
next day the Duchess of Clarence was delivered of a seven 
months' female child, which lived but a few hours. In conse- 
quence of a debility of constitution, which displayed itself at 
this early date she was recommended to travel, and she accord- 
ingly visited for a month her birthplace, Meiningen, where she 
was entertained with a series of fetes and public rejoicings. 
Their royal highnesses thence repaired to the waters of Lieben- 
stein, and not long after started on their return to England. 
The fatigue of the journey, however, was too great for the 
weak state of her health, and she was detained by illness, first 
at Dunkirk, and afterwards for a period of six weeks at Wal- 
mer castle. During these serious attacks the duke never 
quitted her side. 

The year 1820 beheld the birth and death of the only other 
living child of the Duchess Adelaide. That year, so eventful 
as regarded the succession to these realms, by the death of the 
old King, George the Third, and of the Duke of Kent, ex- 
tinguished also all hopes of heirs to this third branch of the 
royal family, and left the little Princess Victoria, after the death 
of her three uncles, presumptive heiress to the Crown. 

In June, 1822, the Duke and Duchess of Clarence again pro- 
ceeded to the Continent, for the benefit of the health of the 
duchess. They visited most of their relatives in Germany on 
this occasion, the result being most beneficial to the health of 
the royal invalid, and they were accompanied on their return 
to England by the family of Saxe Weimar. In the 
intervals between their foreign tours they alternated their 
residence between Clarence House, St. James and Bushey Park, 
which latter residence had been prepared for their reception 
soon after their marriage. In 1825 they returned to Meinin- 



ADELAIDE. 529 

gen, to be present at the nuptials of its duke, the young brother 
of Adelaide ; but the festivities there were abruptly brought to 
a close by the death of her uncle, and shortly afterwards by 
that of another more distant member of her family. The 
death of the Duke of York also at this period, while it gave to 
the Duke and Duchess of Clarence an increased importance 
in the eyes of the nation, added to the gloom of mourning 
into which they were so suddenly thrown. 

They resided a good deal at this epoch at the Chateau a 
Quatre Tours at Ems, a favorite spot with the duke, because 
its scenery reminded him of that of the river St. Lawrence, in 
North America. The birthday of the Duchess of Clarence in 
the- year 1826 was celebrated with great honors. Eighteen 
princes and princesses, all related to her, were present at the 
banquet, a song was composed in her honor and sung by the 
peasants, and the peasant girls in token of affection decked her 
with garlands, amid all sorts of festivities. In 1827, William 
as Lord High Admiral was much occupied in inspecting the 
ports and arsenals of the kingdom, and during this time Adel- 
aide made a tour among the English nobility, from whom she 
received a cordial welcome. 

The death of George the Fourth in 1830 called Adelaide to 
the throne of Great Britain as Queen Consort. A detail of the 
pageants with which the accession of -William the Fourth, the 
Sailor-king, and his queen, Adelaide, were attended, will not 
be expected in this place. Parliament immediately testified its 
satisfaction by the munificent vote of £100,000 to the queen 
in the event of her surviving his majesty, and Bushey, and 
Marlborough House were assigned as her royal residences for 
life. The royal couple acknowledged this ample provision in 
person in the House of Lords. The king and queen together 
visited the Tower in great state, and among their earliest public 
appearances were two visits to Greenwich Hospital. They 
walked in procession over the new London bridge at its open- 
ing, and showered medals among the crowds, who received 
them with acclamations. In 1832 they opened the new bridge at 
Staines, and more than once presented themselves at the cele- 
bration of Eton Montem. While on the course at Ascot to- 
gether, a man named Denis Collins hurled a stone at the 
King, occasioning much alarm and equal danger to the Queen. 
The great political feature of their regn, the passing of the 
Reform Act in the same year, cannot be omitted in this place, 



530 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

though, from the bias of the Queen's character as exhibited in 
subsequent events, it is supposed that this great enactment was 
by no means agreeable to her, and might have met with her 
resistance, had she possessed the power. 

Their majesties honored the musical festival at Westminster 
Abbey with their presence during four several performances 
in the year 1834. During the months of July and August, 
Queen Adelaide paid a visit to her mother on the Continent. 
Her sister, the Duchess of Saxe Weimar, came over to Eng- 
land in the following year, and accompanied the queen on a 
state visit to Oxford. The court of England, during her short 
reign, was a model of purity, and a fitting resort for the young. 
Her virtues won the respect of all classes of the community. 

Her affectionate heart was doomed to bear its two severest 
trials in rapid succession, in the year 1837. The first was the 
death of her mother; the second, the loss of her husband. 
King William had himself sustained a heavy affliction in the 
sudden decease of his child, Lady de Lisle. During his last 
illness, of some weeks' duration, Queen Adelaide devoted her- 
self exclusively to attendance upon him. For twelve days she 
is reported never to have changed her dress, nor to have taken 
more than a brief repose at a time. Her hand chafed the cold 
hand of the king, and her voice responded to the religious offices 
performed at his bedside. She supported him for a whole hour 
before the fatal moment, and he died in her arms. But such a 
paroxysm of grief then fell upon her, as threatened her life. 
She privately attended his funeral. 

Adelaide, now Queen Dowager, resigned the pomp of her 
regal station without a sigh, and retired to Bushey, between 
which place, Marlborough House and St. Leonard's, she di- 
vided most of the remaining twelve years of her life. She 
was present at the marriage of Queen Victoria and Prince 
Albert, early in the year 1840. Her name, throughout her life, 
appeared before the public at the head of lists of subscribers 
for the relief of the distresses of different classes, as well as 
for the erection of new churches and other religious objects. 
But her health now rapidly declined, and she made a voyage 
to the islands of Madeira and Malta. At the latter island she 
founded and endowed the Church of Valetta. She was nine- 
teen years a wife, r.nd fifty-seven years of age., when she died. 
That event took place at Bentley Priory, on December 2, 1849. 
the princess, her sister, being present. The humility exhibited 



ADELAIDE. 531 

in her will renders it a standing lesson for princes. Following 
its instructions, her remains did not lie in state, but were 
removed to St. George's Chapel, Windsor, borne by sailors, 
and without procession. 

Queen Adelaide loved hospitality, but well knew how to 
practice economy when she was Duchess of Clarence. Her 
reading was extensive, her love of music and pictures great. 
Perhaps, after all, the quality for which she deserved to be 
most respected has not yet been told. This was her unremit- 
ting kindness and attention to the sons and daughters of her 
husband by Mrs. Jordan. Her steady practice of this exalted 
generosity is beyond all commendation, and shows her to have 
been morally worthy of the title of Queen. 



VICTORIA. 

The life of Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, and 
Empress of India, is so interwoven in the history of die cen- 
tury, with the vital throbbing present, her name and character 
so deeply impressed on the hearts and lips of the world's mil- 
lions, that written words seem uncalled for. But written and 
printed words concerning so remarkable a personality and 
reign as of Her Majesty have interested and thrilled the world, 
have enthused and influenced peoples of varying tongues, and 
a brief sketch of the reigning sovereign, that of necessity must 
be incomplete and inadequate, is needful to the full number 
of the galaxy of Queens, who, crowned on the Stone of Destiny, 
have occupied the English throne and served to enlighten the 
world. 

The fact that England has had but few English Queens since 
the Norman Conquest stands for much in the history of the 
realm. Princesses from foreign courts have, from 1066, in- 
oculated the body politic and the blood royal with varying 
traits, that from time to time worked more for the woe than 
the weal of the country. The people remained English, while 
the House Royal and the court became infused with foreign 
elements. Today the people are becoming cosmopolitan, while 
the House Royal, strengthened by Teutonic grafting on the 
old English stock, is adding English blood to the vitality of 
every Christian throne in Europe ; this, too, in spite of the 
Salic law, and the spirit and will of kings, who could cast aside 
wives and daughters in eagerness for a male heir. Truly this 
is prophecy. 

From the days of Matilda of Flanders we have noted the de- 
veloping and benignant influence of woman on the British 
nation. As before stated, such influence has been especially ex- 
erted by the Queens regnant. Sovereignty on the brow of 
woman has stood for much, but the divinely appointed majesty 

532 




% 




}/uJjoua^. 



VICTORIA. 533 

of motherhood has told for more. Victoria the Queen has 
molded the moral, religious and political character of her 
realm and age ; Victoria the mother has molded individual 
character for the world, for time, for eternity. So great is in- 
fluence. 

Before the reign of George III. and his Queen, Sophia Char- 
lotte of Mecklinburg, had become history, Destiny was scan- 
ning their fifteen sons and daughters in order to place the line 
of hereditary succession. Three sons were weighed in the bal- 
ance and found wanting. George IV. married Caroline of 
Brunswick and made her the most cruelly unhappy martyr in 
kingly annals. Her one child, Charlotte, Princess of Wales, 
was parted from the mother love and influence, and died soon 
after her marriage to Prince Leopold. Frederick, Duke of 
York, died while his brother George was still on the throne. 
The Dukes of Clarence and Kent were married at the same 
time. For the sake of the succession Parliament granted a 
sufficient amount to the sons of the king to encourage marriage. 
William married Adelaide of Meiningen, a woman of refine- 
ment, education and sweetness of disposition. Her two 
daughters died in infancy. Edward Duke of Kent married 
Princess Victoria, daughter of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, 
widow of Prince Leiningen, and sister of Prince Leopold, hus- 
band of Charlotte, Princess of Wales. Edward was the fourth 
son of George III., and his infant daughter, born May 24, 
1819, was the one upon whom Destiny placed the honor of 
regal succession. The successive deaths of her father, three 
uncles, and three cousins, brought the Princess Alexandria 
Victoria to the throne on the 20th of June, 1837, less than one 
month after her majority. Victoria the Princess, aged twelve 
years, when told by her mother that she might some day 
be Queen of England, struck the keynote of the reign of Vic- 
toria Queen and Empress when she lifted up her dimpled hand 
and said, "I will be good." Later, when eighteen years had 
developed her into beautiful young womanhood, and she was 
aroused from early morning slumber to receive the Archbishop 
of Canterbury and the Lord Chamberlain, bringing their salu- 
tations to her as Queen of England, the dominant motive of her 
life sounded again, as she fell on her knees between them, say- 
ing, "I ask your prayers in my behalf." After presenting her- 
self on the balcony to the cheering crowds before Kensington 
Palace, she returned to her mother, her eyes and voice over- 



534 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

flowing with emotion, requesting to be left alone and undis- 
turbed for a time ; and the first hours of her reign were spent 
in fervent prayer for herself and her people. Thus began a 
new era for England. 

Her parentage had formed, in large measure, the character 
that was to dominate that era. Though somewhat remote from 
the throne at her birth, the Duke, her father, received regrets 
as well as congratulations, and in reply to one we note the 
spirit of the man : "I assure you how truly sensible I am of the 
kind and flattering intentions of those who are prompted to 
express a degree of disappointment from the circumstance of 
the child not proving a son instead of a daughter. I feel it due 
to myself to declare that such sentiments are not in unison 
with my own, for I am decidedly of opinion that the decrees of 
Providence are at all times wisest and best." Both parents 
seemed to realize in unusual degree the possible future of their 
child. On one occasion the Duke playfully held up the baby 
girl, saying: "Look at her well, for she will some day be Queen 
of England." After the death of her father, which occurred 
when the Princess was eight months old, the Duchess gave her 
undivided attention to the care and development of her child. 
Her father left little but debts to his widow and orphan, but 
the Dnchess petitioned Parliament in behalf of the future of 
the Princess, and an allowance was granted for her main- 
tenance and education proportionate to her high position ; also 
a grant of £6,000 a year to the Duchess of Kent. The Princess 
had the best of instructors in Greek and Latin, as well as in 
modern languages, mathematics, history, geography; language 
being a special delight to her, and much time was also given to 
music, drawing and dancing, of which, girl-like, she was very 
fond. 

Kensington, her native palace, was her home during these 
years. Here she was constantly with her mother, sleeping in 
her room, and having her supper at a small table beside her 
mother at dinner. The mother love, the companionship -of so 
mature and intelligent a mind as that of the Duchess, developed 
a different character than would the constant intercourse with 
child playmates, and instruction superintended by one giving 
less interest than the mother gave. The wisdom and good 
sense of the Duchess was manifest throughout the minority of 
the Princess, in the moral as well as the intellectual training 
she so carefully guided, "not merely learning facts or acquiring 



VICTORIA. 535 

accomplishments, but she aimed at forming the character and 
disciplining the whole nature so that it should acquire con- 
scientiousness, and the strength which comes from self-govern- 
ment. Keeping this end in view, and aided no doubt by the 
responsiveness in the child's own nature, the little Princess was 
trained to those habits of strict personal integrity which are the 
only unfailing safeguard for truthfulness and fundamental 
honesty in regard to money and otjier possessions." 

The Princess was very fond of her governess, the Baroness 
Lehzen. A little incident related by her preceptor, Dr. Davys, 
Bishop of Peterborough, to Dr. Wilber force, illustrates the ex- 
exact truthfulness of the child. "One day the little Princess 
was very anxious that the lesson should be over, and was rather 
troublesome. The Duchess of Kent came in and asked how 
she had behaved. Baroness Lehzen replied that once she had 
been rather naughty. The Princess, touching her arm, said : 
"No, Lehzen, tzvice, don't you remember?" 

A devoted mother gave the kingdom a devoted Queen, elicit- 
ing the gratitude and respect of the nation, which commingles 
with the love and reverence the daughter gives to her mother's 
memory and to the sacred dust now resting at Frogmore. No 
less a part of her training was the development of that natural 
poise and dignity that has ever graced Her Majesty, and the 
happy faculty of doing the right thing at the right time, the 
exercise of which won the surprise and admiration of her first 
ministry as voiced by Greville, who speaks of the "remarkable 
union she presented of womanly sympathy, girlish naivete, and 
queenly dignity. She never ceases to be the Queen," he said, 
"but is always the most charming, cheerful, obliging, unaf- 
fected Queen in the world." A further quotation from Gre- 
ville's Memoirs will best give an account of her character then, 
and connect the passing of William IV. and the proclaiming of 
the Princess Victoria, Queen of England. 

"June 21, 1837. — The King died at twenty minutes past two yester- 
day morning, and the young Queen met the Council at Kensington 
Palace at Eleven. Never was anything like the first impression she 
produced, or the chorus of praise and admiration which is raised 
about her manner and behavior, and certainly not without justice. It 
was very extraordinary and something far beyond what was looked 
for. Her extreme youth and inexperience, and the ignorance of the 
world concerning her, naturally excited intense curiosity to see how 
she would act on this trying occasion, and there was a considerable 
assemblage at the Palace, notwithstanding the short notice that was 
given. The first thing to be done was to teach her her lesson, which 



536 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

for this purpose Melbourne had himself to learn. I gave him the 
Council papers and explained all that was to be done ; and he went 
and explained all to her. He asked if she would come into the room 
accompanied by the great officers of state, but she said she would 
come in alone. When the Lords were assembled, the Lord President 
informed them of the King's death, and suggested, as they were so 
numerous, that a few of them should repair to the presence of the 
Queen and- inform her of the event, and that their Lordships were 
assembled in consequence ; and accordingly the two Royal Dukes, the 
two Archbishops, the Lord Chancellor and Melbourne went with him. 
The Queen received them in the adjoining room alone. As soon as 
they had returned, the proclamation was read and the usual order 
passed, when the doors were thrown open and the Queen entered, 
accompanied by her two uncles, who advanced to meet her. She 
bowed to the Lords, took her seat, and then read her speech in a 
clear, distinct and audible voice, and without any appearance of fear 
or embarrassment. She was quite plainly dressed and in mourning. 
After she had read her speech and taken and signed the oath for 
the security of the Church of Scotland, the Privy Councillors were 
sworn, the Royal Dukes first by themselves. * * * * When the 
business was done she retired as she had entered. After the Council 
she received the Archbishops, the Bishops, and after them the Judges. 
They all kissed her hand, but she said nothing to any of them ; very 
different in this from her predecessor, who used to harangue them 
all and had a speech ready for everybody." 

On the 20th of November the Queen opened the first Parlia- 
ment of her reign, with the Whigs in power and Lord Mel- 
bourne as Prime Minister, chief advisor and instructor in mat- 
ters political. In fact she came to look upon him almost in the 
light of a father, for his counsels to her engendered a warm 
friendship. His nearness to the throne was not altogether well 
pleasing to the opposite party ; there was a natural jealousy and 
they felt they had no chance. 

However, both parties soon learned that their Queen was 
balanced with prudence and strong sense, and when it became 
necessary for her to do without the services of her first Premier 
she continued to give him the respect and affection of a friend. 
Conciliatory by nature, he advised the Queen to send for 
Peel, who was the next to accept the responsibility of the Pre- 
miership, and no doubt the generous act on the part of the re- 
tiring Melbourne, in giving advice out of his long experience, 
through Greville, to his successor helped in reality to lubricate 
the new political machinery of a new ministry and party. At 
the first Parliament the royal income was fixed at £385,000 per 
annum, with £30,000 for the Duchess of Kent. 

The coronation was not until the 28th of June the following 
year, and was perhaps the most magnificent ceremonial that 



VICTORIA. 537 

ever took place within the historic walls of Westminster Abbey. 
Against the background of similar historical events, how beau- 
tiful, solemn, impressive, appears the coronation service of this 
young girl-queen; sincere, pure-hearted, untainted with am- 
bitions and vices of intriguing court life, taking the oath to 
protect the constitution and the nation. What had been a 
ceremony merely with previous sovereigns, assumed the sol- 
emnity of a patriarchal rite. 

The young queen was seated in the chair of King Edward ; 
four Knights of the Most High Order of the Garter held a 
canopy cloth of gold over her head. The Archbishop then 
anointed her head and hands, saying, "Be thou anointed with 
holy oil as kings, priests and prophets were anointed, and as 
Solomon was anointed king by Zadok the priest, and Nathan 
the prophet, so be thou anointed, blessed, and consecrated 
Queen over this people, whom the Lord your God hath given 
you to rule and govern." 

Then followed the benediction. The Sword of State was 
then taken from the altar and placed in her hands by the Arch- 
bishop, with the formula concerning justice and protection. 
Last of all the scepter of justice and power, and the rod of 
equity and mercy were placed in her hands, and the crown 
placed on her head. After this sacred rite, the Queen received 
the sacrament, and on her rising from before the altar the 
organ and choir pealed forth the marvelous chorus, "Hallelu- 
jah ! for the Lord God Omnipotent Reigneth." 

It was a day of great rejoicing ; a two-fold blessing had come 
to England, freedom from the thralldom they endured under 
the sons of George III., and the dawn of a new epoch, prophetic 
•in the very purity, conscientiousness, simplicity and prudence 
of a virtuous girl Queen, who won the hearts of her people to 
have and to hold. It was a new sensation for England. The 
Queen was popular from the first because of her personality 
and her hearty interest in the welfare of her people. They were 
to taste the joys of a constitutional government well admin- 
istered. 

It is true that means were enacted during the reign of Wil- 
liam IV. that proved preparatory to the new regime. The Re- 
form Bill of 1832 had paved the way for better things. What 
the Great Alfred realized more than a thousand years before 
as the great need to the developing of his people and the success 



538 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

of his reign, Victoria realized in the early years of her sovef- 
ignty, and cheaper schools in many a town and hamlet renewed 
the impetus toward universal education, that is the foundation 
of the Victorian era. The Corn Laws, ever a thorn in the flesh 
of the poor, were abolished, but it needed a famine in Ireland 
to bring it about, and such liberal men as Lord John Russell 
and Peel proved to be. One of the most important reforms of 
the new regime was the institution of the penny post, which 
was brought about as a blessing to the poor, who could ill 
afford the high rates proportioned according to distance. 

The first three years of the reign were so wholly given to the 
duties and better acquaintance of her position that her min- 
isters began to be anxious as to the matrimonial inclinations 
of the sovereign. Her uncle, Prince Leopold, and the wise and 
sagacious Stockmar, had for years been working out the solu- 
tion of this weighty problem, more especially since the separa- 
tion of the Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Coburg had put the 
young Prince Albert more directly within the influence of Prince 
Leopold and the Dowager Duchess, his grandmother. Other 
alliances were suggested by King William, but were in no way 
agreeable to the young girl, and fortunately there were no male 
relatives who had power to make political or financial barter 
of her hand. Her power was absolute to choose whom she 
would. It had long been the wish of her uncle Leopold that his 
favorite nephew and niece should in time fill the place that 
would have been filled by his beloved Charlotte and himself but 
for her untimely death. It was, therefore, a joy to him — at that 
time King of Belgium — no less than to her Ministers, when, in 
1839, she announced her choice to be Prince Albert of Saxe- 
Coburg. The Prince had visited England a number of times 
during his boyhood, and once just before the intimation of the 
high destiny that awaited him. For the first time in the history 
of English Queens do we find a "love-match" pure and simple. 
To Stockmar she wrote, "Albert has completely won my heart." 
And to her uncle Leopold she wrote of her great happiness : 
"My mind is quite made up. I told Albert this morning of it. 
The warm affection he showed me on learning this gave me 
great pleasure. The last few days have passed like a dream to 
me. * * * * Lord Melbourne, whom I have consulted 
about the whole affair, quite approves my choice." Very dif- 
ferent this, from the experience of former Queens, who were 
pledged, frequently in infancy, by scheming fathers or brothers, 




THE BRIDAL MORN 



THE QUEEN AND PRINCE ALBERT ON THEIR RETURN FROM THE SACREE 
CEREMONY. ON THE ioiii OF FEBRUARY, 1840 



VICTORIA. 539 

to some foreign potentate, regardless of age or those personal 
qualities that make for or destroy happiness and right influence. 
Lord Torrington was sent to escort the bridegroom to England, 
and directly on his arrival at Buckingham Palace the oath of 
naturalization was administered to him by the Lord Chancellor. 

The marriage took place in the Royal Chapel at St. James', 
on the ioth of February, 1840. The royal couple proceeded to 
Windsor, which has ever been the favorite home of the Queen. 

The Princess Royal was born November 21, 1840, and a year 
later the heir was born and christened Albert Edward, the 
united names of his father and grandfather. The christening 
ceremony was attended with great pomp in St. George's Chapel, 
Windsor, the Archbishop of Canterbury presiding. The Queen 
mother soon created him Prince of Wales and Earl of Chester. 

Victoria has been a fond and devoted mother, but even when 
the nursery was full of little ones, not even the youngest ever 
caused the mother to relax the vigilance of the Queen. 

The horrors of the Afghan troubles were still fresh in heart 
and mind when the Princess Alice was born, April 25, 1843. 
The next year Prince Alfred was born, August 16, and Princess 
Helena, May 25, 1846. The Irish rebellion agitated the Queen 
and her realm in 1848, and while the Princess Louise was still 
but a few months old she made her first visit to her Irish sub- 
jects, then, as now, finding them warm-hearted and loyal. The 
insurrection in Canada gave the young Queen her first experi- 
ence with foreign troubles and showed her the importance of a 
sovereign being untrammeled by party inclination or prejudice. 
Throughout the reign there has been controversy between the 
Liberal and Conservative parties — parties that under William 
the Fourth emerged from the Whig and Tory with much the 
same nature, for all the change of names. Onlookers who have 
decried this party struggle as injurious to the welfare of the 
nation, forget that party spirit is essential to development ; that 
progress is impossible without action against a certain amount 
of opposition. 

From the uprising in Canada to the strange war now waging 
in Africa, mighty problems have taxed the thought and sym- 
pathy of the Queen in behalf of her colonies. It is impossible 
from this date in time, the very threshold of the twentieth cen- 
tury, to look back over the sixty-three years of her Majesty's 
reign and cite even the most important events, achievements, ac- 
quisitions in territory and power, in science, literature and art, 



540 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

much less to measure the spirit of love as embodied in hospitals, 
homes and comforts for the poor, sick and afflicted, all tending 
toward the greater brotherhood of man. All these and more 
have served the progress of the British Empire, and the develop- 
ment of the world at large. The Elizabethan age had its glory 
that shines with a fixed light down through the centuries upon 
us of today, but the Victorian age is greater — brighter ; we are 
so within the radiance that it blinds us to the extent and power 
of its influence. Only under a monarch at peace within herself, 
within her home, within her borders, the law of love dominating 
heart and rule, could such advance be possible. 

In the interests of peace and prosperity, Prince Albert set on 
foot the idea of an International Exhibition, and against heavy 
odds by way of hindrance and ridicule, brought about the huge 
Crystal Palace in Hyde Park, and the eminently successful 
achievement of a World's Fair in 185 1. So great was the dis- 
dain for this enterprise, even in Parliament, that members of the 
House of Commons are said to have prayed that hail and light- 
ning might be sent from heaven to destroy the building. It 
would ruin London and its boasted park, for the offscouring of 
foreign countries would flock to and pollute the city. We have 
seen the astonishing results of this initial exhibition, on ever 
increasing scales, serving as milestones along the path of ma- 
terial progress. 

The discoveries and developments of mechanical arts and 
sciences during the reign have added in untold measure to the 
extension of power on land and sea. 

One who has done great service to his Queen and the age, 
with pen and eloquence, was a child of four years when a 
gorgeously habited troop of cavalry trumpeted attention in the 
streets of the little town where he lived, and halting with 
drawn swords glittering to the sun, an elder officer proclaimed 
the new sovereign. The glory and acclaim of trumpets fastened 
to the boy's memory, also the sight of a vender selling a novelty 
for a half-penny each — little sticks that would strike fire as 
he drew them through a folded bit of sandpaper. Thus early 
did the lucifer match contribute its little light to the new era. 
The electric power, previously caught by Franklin, now tamed, 
trained and harnessed to telegraph, telephone, engines for light 
and power, has aided materially in uplifting, enriching and 
unifying human interests. 

Gold, the ignis fatus of mankind, has lured on to territorial 





LtdcMas 

HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN 



VICTORIA. 541 

acquisitions, giving astonishing increase in commercial lines and 
revenues. Sir Edwin Arnold, who has certainly been in a posi- 
tion to realize these facts, tells us that "the discovery of gold at 
Bathurst on May 14, 1851, and in the following September at 
Ballarat, commenced a new Golden Age, not, indeed, of wholly 
Arcadian type, but prodigiously important, nevertheless, and 
utterly world-altering. In six years the population of New 
South Wales doubled. Australian exports jumped from four 
million to twenty-three million, Australian imports from three 
and three-quarter millions to twenty-four millions sterling. The 
gold fields cleansed Tasmania, as it were by magic, of the con- 
vict dregs which had been drafted there, and caused Australia 
to grow like Jonah's gourd, so that the sheep, which were three 
and a half millions in 1837, have risen to eighty millions; the 
revenue, which was £429,000, is now £25,000,000. * * * * 
Great Britain, which measured two million square miles in 
1837, extends now over nearly ten million." 

Wars and rumors of wars have left their trace on the heart 
and brow of the Queen. The Peace Jubilee was soon overtaken 
by clouds of war that broke with slaughter and siege over 
Crimea in 1854. The Indian Mutiny followed in 1857, and in 
1881 the war with Egypt. Add to these the persistent and fear- 
ful struggle in Africa, all waged at a cost of valuable human 
life and sorrow, which to a monarch who loves peace and her 
people, has come as a personal grief. 

Such warfare has not come about with the sanction of the 
sovereign, nor her easy acquiescence in measures that have 
seemed necessary, but finally precipitated war. Absolutism 
is not her power ; but Her Majesty has lived up to the full 
power she wields as constitutional monarch, and by such power 
has averted many a threatened catastrophe. As evidence of 
her ability to cope with such international questions as the 
controversy with Russia concerning the Turkish question, in 
1853, is the reply made by England's ambassador to Count 
Nesselrode in St. Petersburg, when the latter asked if he 
knew the purport of the Queen's reply to the Czar. "No," he 
replied, "these correspondences between sovereigns are not 
regular according to our constitutional notions ; but all I can 
say is, that if Her Majesty were called upon to write upon 
the Eastern affair, she would not require her ministers' assist- 
ance. The Queen understands these questions as well as they 
do." At this time Aberdeen was premier and Gladstone chan- 



542 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

cellor of the exchequer, and with the Queen were opposed to 
the war policy of Palmerston, who sided with the Turks. Since 
that time the world has more than once seen the hypocrisy of 
Russia's pretended protection of Christian subjects in Turkey. 
When the mask was lifted and the real policy of Russia re- 
vealed, war was inevitable, and with a prayer for the success of 
battles on land and sea, the Queen and the women of Britain 
speed her armies to the east. Doubtless the Queen longed for 
the noble Duke of Wellington, who had been the stanch friend 
of the sovereign and the nation, but he had laid down earthly 
arms in 1852. The Queen's heart was with the cause of right 
and her armies. 

The story is cited of one of the little princesses, who, as 
Lord Raglan was leaving to take up his command in Crimea,! 
said to him : "You must hurry away to Sebastopol, please. 
Lord Raglan, and take it, or mamma will die of her anxiety." 

"Some idea of the labor devolving upon a conscientious sov- 
ereign in times of national crisis may be gathered from the fact 
that the papers at Windsor. relating to the eastern question and 
the Crimean war, covering the period between 1853 and 1857, 
amount to no fewer than fifty folio volumes,"* A strong proof 
that Victoria has been an indefatigable worker. 

Victoria was more than happy in her married life, for the 
Prince Consort proved a power with the throne. The unusual 
sympathy between them was a power in the home government 
and in diplomatic relations abroad. No one can tell to what an 
extent life and good will have been preserved to the two nations 
of the English tongue because of his reconstruction of Lord 
Palmerston's message to the United States concerning the Trent 
affair. The Queen was greatly disturbed at the purport of the 
message, and although the Prince Consort was ill at the time, 
she went to him for council, and his penciled readjustment of 
the document of such vast import to the world, was the last pub- 
lic service of the Prince, a princely work of a princely mind, 
for with wisdom and tact he subdued the natural indignation 



tThe blessed ministrations of Florence Nightingale in that warfare 
was a pioneer movement, which, in the last struggle against Turkish 
outrages, has been followed by Clara Barton and the Red Cross brigade 
of nurses that will evermore be found on whatever battlefields may yet 
stain the banners of Christian civilization. 

Fawcett's Life of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. 



VICTORIA. 543 

and resentment of the nation, as expressed by the Prime Min- 
ister, and sent the document permeated with the essenec of the 
golden rule, thus making a peaceful adjustment possible. 

The death of the Prince in 1861 was the beginning of the 
fourth period in Victoria's life. For twenty-two years she was a 
happy wife and mother, giving loving welcome to each of the 
nine children and grandchildren as they came to join the family 
circle. In 1861 two great sorrows carqe to the royal woman. In 
March her devoted mother died ; it came as the first great sor- 
row. She realized then, as millions of daughters have realized 
when the mother love cannot answer to the sacred name, 
"Mother," how large was the place that mother had faithfully 
filled in her whole career. But she had her loving husband and 
her "dear Alice" to comfort her. Little did she dream that a 
greater grief was so soon to follow with more crushing weight. 
The Prince Consort was far from well that entire year, and died 
on the 14th of December. 

"Few who were present at morning service on the following 
day will forget the thrill of awe and sorrow which ran through 
the churches when the name of the Prince Consort was omitted 
from the liturgy, and a long pause was made after the words ' 
'widows and orphans.' To many this was the first intimation 
of the Prince's death." Royalty is, perforce, isolated in all vicis- 
situdes of life, and so the Queen mourned alone at Windsor. In 
proportion to the strength of the tie that bound their lives in one, 
was her great grief. The knowledge that her subjects through- 
out the realm and in her remotest provinces mourned with her 
could in no way lessen the pain. But she was still the Queen, 
though widowed, and took up her burden of state matters a 
few days after her loss. She had her devoted daughter for a 
few months longer, when, in July, 1862, she became Grand 
Duchess of Hesse-Darmstadt, taking yet another light out of 
her mother's home. 

The forty years since sorrow first came to England's Queen 
have been checkered indeed. The children who came m the 
first twnty years, bringing joy and gladness, began to answer 
to the calls of duty and of death. Victoria, the third of the 
name, and Princess Royal, had the blessing of her father on 
her marriage, for it was in 1858 she wedded with the Crown 
Prince of Prussia, afterward, for three months only, Emperor 
Frederick Third, of Germany. At eighteen she was the mother 
of the present Emperor, William the Second, and in 1888 the 



544 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

rapid current of events made her a widow, the Dowager 
Empress of Germany. 

In 1863 the Prince of Wales married Princess Alexandra of 
Denmark. This event presented a magnificent spectacle in St. 
George's Chapel, and was the first royal marriage in that far 
back ancestral chapel since that of Henry the First in 1122. 
The Queen looked on from her private royal closet, but took 
no part in the ceremony. 

The pageant, costumes, jewels and decorations were most im- 
posing and brilliant. In 1866 Princess Helena married Prince 
Christian of Schleswig-Holstein. Five years later the Prin- 
cess Louise married the Marquis of Lome. She had always 
declared she would never wed a foreign Prince, and now she is 
an English Duchess. Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, married 
next, in 1874, the Grand Duchess Marie of Russia. He was 
the reigning Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, succeeding his uncle, 
Ernst, brother of Prince Albert. The three younger children 
married in 1879, 1882 and 1885 respectively; Arthur, Duke 
of Connaught, to Louise of Prussia ; Leopold, Duke of Albany, 
to Helen of Waldeck, and Princess Beatrice to Henry of Bat- 
tenburg. Death has removed the Duke of Edinburgh, the 
Princess Alice and Leopold, and a number of grandchildren, 
but the line of succession is in evidence unto the third genera- 
tion, in the person of Edward, Duke of York, aged six years. 

Victoria has been blessed with gifted helpers in her Premiers. 
She called them in council, and the influence of such intercourse 
has been reciprocal. They have in turn been as pillars about 
the throne. In turn she has missed the help and companion- 
ship of such great minds and men as Melbourne, Peel, Lords 
John Russell, Palmerston, Aberdeen and Derby, as each has 
finished his work and left earth's arena. It was Lord John 
Russell who gave the vote to trading men by the Bill of 1832, 
and thirty-three years later tried to give the same privilege 
to the workingmen, and failed because the time was not ripe. 
For the man who persistently climbed and waited, and climbed 
eventually to the height of his lofty ambition, beside the 
throne, Victoria had a great respect and admiration, and it 
was her gracious pleasure to invest the Earl of Beaconsfield 
with the Knighthood of the Garter. Beaconsfield was an Im- 
perialist, and it was during his ministry in T877 that the 
Queen assumed her new title of Empress of India. "Imperial," 
he said, "meant ruling over many states, and her Majesty 



VICTORIA. 545 

held sway over the vast British Empire, and the title would 
be valuable in the administration of affairs in India. The 
Queen had a high regard for and confidence in his sound judg- 
ment. When his death was announced to her she said : "His 
Garter shall remain vacant." Gladstone, the antagonist of the 
Hebrew statesman, has been long and constantly, before Eng- 
land and the world, and the world missed him from his ac- 
customed relations to England's polity. 

' Her Majesty, ever quick to recognize and appreciate merit, 
has encouraged and helped those who have helped themselves, 
no less than those who have helped their sovereign and her 
realm, and the names of those great in science, literature and 
art, who have lent added luster to the greatness of the Vic- 
torian era, would fill a volume. 

The Peace Jubilee of 1887 was the enthusiastic expression 
of a loyal people, of their intense joy and thankfulness that 
Victoria had ruled the nation with justice and mercy for fifty 
years. No other Queen has attained such honor, love and 
prosperity, and no other Queen could hold such exalted position 
and receive such laudations with quiet simplicity. In the 
midst of a pageant of splendor and royalty from all the coun- 
tries of the earth, glittering- with color, jewels and insignias 
of high orders, Victoria appeared in a gown of black and gray, 
wearing the broad ribbon and decoration of the Order of the 
Garter, an inconspicuous bonnet, her soft gray hair her only 
crown, Her Majesty's three sons, in full uniform and magnifi- 
cently mounted, an imposing bodyguard of Princes, immediately 
preceded their royal mother in the august procession, and with 
the field officers in British red in the rear of the state carriage— 
the Queen never allowed herself other military escort — formed 
a brilliant setting for the simple dignity of the majesty whom 
they all delighted to honor. "She moved as ever, with a beau- 
tiful stateliness that well expressed her royal authority; her 
face gravely radiant, her eyes turned to. right and left, as with 
her unequaled demeanor she acknowledged the salutations ad- 
dressed to her on either side." 

On the same spot in Westminster, where fifty years before, 
as a young girl, the Queen had knelt and sworn fidelity to the 
constitution of the kingdom, and to govern according to law, 
justice and mercy, the aged Queen appeared, followed by chil- 
dren, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, to return thanks 
to the Almighty for the blessings of her reign and the augment- 



546 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

ing power, prosperity and numbers of her people. Yet longer 
life is granted the Queen, and ten years later the nation rejoiced 
again and did homage to their sovereign of fourscore years. 

Who can doubt that these years of peace and prosperity 
were given for growth, for the development of generations of 
character, stamped by influence of the Sovereign, to cope with 
the dark and bloody facts and problems that threaten to shake 
with volcanic force the 'unchristian continents of the earth ? 
The development of Europe shows many lurid spots on the 
background of history, against which the high light of Chris- 
tianity and science, held by a Christian Sovereign, shines with 
unprecedented lrster. 

The beatitude of meekness voiced by the little child and 
by the young girl when called to the most exalted throne in 
Christendom, proclaims to the world today the fulfillment of 
promise in the expanse, quality and influence of the regnant 
power vouchsafed to Victoria, Queen and Empress, who has 
held the scepter and love of her people and the world for more 
than threescore years. 

Of remarkable constitution and most exemplary method of 
life, the Queen has only of late shown pronounced signs of fail- 
ing health. The ravages of the war. in Africa, draining life- 
blood from thousands of English hearts, many near and clear 
to the Queen, including Prince Victor, her grandson, have 
been a great grief to the aged sovereign. Her eldest and favor- 
ite daughter. Empress Frederick, is suffering with a painful 
and lingering disease, and it is but six months since the sudden 
death of her second son, Alfred, Duke of Saxe-Coburg, came 
as a great shock to the mother's heart. She but recently left 
Windsor for her beloved Isle of Wight, when Lady Churchill, 
her chief attendant for many years, is found dead in her bed, 
adjoining the Queen's room. All these sorrows are telling 
on the vitality of the Queen, and news comes from the sick- 
room that she has had a second shock of paralysis. 

January 22, 1901 ! Today, under the ocean's depths and over 
mountain heights, the telegraphic nerves of the whole world 
vibrate with the words: 

"Victoria has just died at Osborne !" 

"The light has gone out of a great life." and the world 
mourns England's Queen. It is nearly sixty-four years since 
heralds proclaimed a new sovereign throughout the realm, 
and even now, in observance of the time-honored custom, state 




MsCst&UOj?. 



HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN 
WITH THE PRINCE OF WALES AND THE PRINCESS ROYAL 



VICTORIA. 547 

heralds, with all military pageantry, have, from Temple Bar, 
the Royal Exchange, and the steps of St. Pauls', proclaimed 
Edward VII. King of England. Already kings and princes 
from every country hasten to share in the last sad rites and 
honor the Queen, who in death, as ever in life, commands the 
homage of all nations. 

Never was such a monarch ; never such a reign. The ar- 
rangements for her funeral, suggested hy her own hand some 
time ago, show her premonition that when her time should 
come to "cross the bar," it would be from her beautiful island 
home overlooking the sea ; and here, indeed, surrounded by her 
family, her life passed peacefully, without pain, into the Be- 
yond. For ten days the tired body has rested where she left it. 

As the march of events and luster of the reign have been 
phenomenal, so too is pageant of mourning that lines the path 
of her last stately progress from Osborne to Windsor. A 
pageant of massed human beings in black, from Portsmouth 
through London, and along the route to Windsor, silently, and 
with heartfelt tears, mourn the Queen they loved. 

The daughter of a soldier ; herself the commander of vast 
armies ; mistress of the greatest naval power afloat ; and ever 
interested in and proud of the men who have been the bulwarks 
about her empire, the Empress wished a military funeral. 

And so with mental vision we follow, with millions on either 
side the water, the solemn pomp and pageantry of arms. The 
oak casket is borne from the house and placed on the gun car- 
riage by her devoted sailors ; and between a double rank of 
grenadiers and the Queen's aids-de-camp, the eight horses, 
each attended by an equerry, followed the company of High- 
landers, whose bagpipes gave forth the weird music of the 
Black Watch. 

The King, the Kaiser of Germany, King of Belgium, fol- 
lowed by Princes and Princesses, £nglish German, and Danish, 
walk behind the military carriage that bears the remains to the 
royal yacht. 

' Amid the roll of drums the coffin is borne to the quarter of 
the Alberta and placed on the catafalque beneath canopy of ruby 
velvet. Over it is thrown the royal standard, and the ermine 
coronation robe worn by the youthful sovereign of long ago; 
and there, too, rested the golden crown and orb. 

The yacht glides silently into the current, and like a thing 
of sentient life, unmanned and unattended so far as eye could 



548 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 

see, moves with majestic mien, along the avenue of waters, 
flanked by double lines of mammoth battleships and enginery 
of war, each booming its dirge far out at sea. The splendor 
of the setting sun touches the rub)' pall and jeweled crown 
into kindred life and light. 

"And the dead, 
Steer'd by the dumb, went upward with the Hood." 

More than fifty monarchs, crown princes and representatives 
of royalty follow the dead Queen through crowded London, a 
significance attaching to their relationship. As the navy honor 
their Queen on the sea, the army is her escort by land ; and 
band answers to band in strains of music that Beethoven and 
Chopin left to the world. At Windsor the booming of minute 
gun from the castle solemnly tolls off the eighty-one years 
of the departed life. The restive horses are detached from 
^the ordnance, and the sailors reverently drag the carriage up 
the old historic hill to the entrance of St. George's Chapel. 
Kings and Queens ; Bishops and Archbishops, statesmen and 
peers follow the royal remains to the altar. The Bishop of 
Winchester and Dean of Windsor read the impressive burial 
service. After the last amen, the herald king-at-arms, pro- 
claims King Edward, who stands by his mother's coffin at the 
foot of the altar steps: "Edward VII., King of Great Britain 
and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and Sovereign of the most 
noble Order of the Garter. God save the King!" 

Again the royal casket rests on its way to the tomb. This 
time in Albert Memorial Chapel. On February 4, followed by 
her royal descendants, she is laid where her heart has longed 
to rest, in the tomb of her husband at Frogmore. 

As Queen, wife, mother, friend, she ruled by the law of love. 
Therefore England's grief is real. The King's grief is real. 

The hearts of the whole world pulsate as one in unison with 
English hearts that mourn their Queen ; and in truest sympathy 
with children and children's children who, gathered at her 
bedside, mourn their mother. Kings, Emperors, Princes, pay 
homage to her mother-love in the presence of Death. The 
peasantry of the realm, the tenantry of her home, mourn a 
personal friend. 

The trouble in the voice of her faithful Scotch gillie proves 
this when he said : "O mon, she is just a dear old woman dying ; 
all the majesty is gone out of her!" Yes, the majestic spirit 



VICTORIA. 



549 



that dominated the world for peace and good will for nearly 
sixty-four years, has been recalled from earthly service to a 
higher Perhaps not the least of that higher office will be the 
influence of that departed majesty, that, like a crown whose 
radiance hides its form, will ever illumine the name and reign 
of Victoria. _ . , 

Blessed is that people whose God is the Lord. 






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